100th Hunger Games: Partner for Life
by love-peace-hugs
Summary: For the 100th Hunger Games... two tributes form the same district are allowed to gain victory. So you'd better be nice to your Partner for Life. REAPINGS ARE DONE!
1. 100th Annual Hunger Games

Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!

For the 100th Annual Hunger Games, there will be a little 'twist' in the Hunger Games. Every twenty-five years, instead of the usual yearly Hunger Games, we have what's called a Quarter Quell. Each Quarter Quell has a unique twist to it. For example, in the second Quarter Quell, which was the 50th Annual Hunger Games, _twice as many_ tributes were chosen to participate. My, what a very, very exciting Hunger Games that was! This year, as well, will be different.

For the 100th Annual Hunger Games…

Two tributes from the same district are allowed to gain victory.


	2. Prologue: Through the Eyes of a Maniac

I drum my fingers impatiently on the mahogany desk in my office.

Why is that idiot taking so long? How dare he be late for a meeting with the President? And to add to that, he was the one that decided to host this stupid meeting in the first place!

I groan in frustration as I toss my head back onto the velvet chair I was sitting on. I put my legs onto the desk, one on top of the other, while I put a pen in my mouth.

What? It's my way of buying time. Biting on pens. Is there a problem?

"Ah, President February," comes that oh-so irritating voice of the head Gamemaker I myself chose. Why did I pick him again? Someone please show me that memory. Because right now, my head is pretty blank as it usually is.

I glare at the man's direction. He'll pay soon. Very soon.

"How have you been doing?" he asks me, ignoring the fact that I was probably planning his execution in my head. Which I may or may not be.

"I've been fine. How are you, Mr Purgatory? Or can I call you Siberius? Yes, I'll call you Siberius." I rest my head on my hand, waiting for him to answer.

"Actually, I'm not feeling too fine," he says, and he suddenly frowned. I smirked. I think I knew where this was going. "I think there needs to be a slight… alteration on your request on there being _two_ tributes."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why? It happened before, didn't it? Why can't it happen again?"

"That isn't my point," he continues. "The Hunger Games is known for only having _one_ victor. That victor is supposed to endure the pain of having the other tributes' families absolutely despise them, and with two victors… well, it wouldn't be as bad."

"What are you trying to say, Seb? Yes, I'll call you Seb. What are you trying to say?" I lift my head, suddenly taking interest.

"Well… I'm trying to say you're being too nice."

"And what do you expect me to do now, Seb?" I say, standing up from my seat. "I've already announced it to the whole of Panem. Do you expect me to go up there and say, 'Hey, you know guys, two victors is too much. We'll think of some other specialty for the fourth Quarter Quell before the reapings start, which, are, you know, in a week,'?"

"Uh, no," he says. He doesn't seem the least bit intimidated. "All I'm saying is, that, well, the two victors could possibly… start a rebellion. Like Everdeen and Mellark did."

"Sebbie, darling. The point of having two victors is to…" I let myself collect the right words. "To let them keep… memories."

'Seb' raises an eyebrow. "Do continue."

I line my manicured nails with one another. "Well, if there is another victor to stand alongside them, then surely the memories of the dead tributes will haunt them, whether they killed them themselves or saw them being killed. That, my dear Siberius," I call him by his proper first name. I lean forward, my hands supporting my weight underneath me on the table. I was close to him now, so dangerously close that our noses nearly touched. "Is the torture I want them to endure."

He gulps. That's the intimidated look I was looking for. "I understand."

"Good." I sit back onto my office chair. "One wrong move there and you could've gotten yourself executed. You may leave."

The head Gamemaker stands up, bows in my direction and walks off. Just before he walks through the door, I say, "We should discuss this over dinner while watching a replay of the reapings."

I only barely catch a glimpse of a nod before he closes the door, and I, President February Carrall, am left in my office, smiling like a maniac.

Though I wouldn't blame anyone who saw me. I am exactly that – a maniac.


	3. District 1: Tranen and Ruber

**.:.:Jenifry 'Jen' Tranen, 13:.:.**

I stay still as Lilly coats my lips with the palest pink lipstick she could find.

"You look perfect now," she says, pulling away and grinning at her masterpiece.

I smile like a fool back at her. "This is going to be the best year ever."

Everyone in the district knows I'm volunteering. I don't want to, of course, but my parents say that I'll have to participate for the Hunger Games while I'm able to if I want the Tranen family fortune passed down to me. Lilly doesn't want it. She wants to get married and have a family. I don't, because my kids would have a chance to get reaped and killed. I want to live alone in my little – no, _huge_ – Victor's Village house without worrying about losing one of my children to the Capitol.

Sitting up, I straighten the hem of my sky blue dress. "I'm going now. I'll meet you at the square."

Lilly nods and sits down on the makeup table herself. She's not volunteering, but she always wants to look her best, even when she's watching her sister volunteer for her own death sentence.

Of course, I'm not going to die. I'm a guaranteed victor.

I slip on a pair of sandals and walk out of the room Lilly and I share. There're lots of rooms in our house, but me and Lilly share one room because Lilly loves doing my makeup in the mornings. My father is reading the newspaper in the kitchen while eating his breakfast, which my mother made. He looks up and smiles at me.

"There's my beautiful victor," he says. My mother looks up from her frying pan as well and beams at me.

"You look amazing, darling," she says while flipping a pancake. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Sure," I say and take a seat at the counter.

I don't know why, but despite how much I hate the fact that my parents, I can never really bring myself to hate _them_. Oh well. I guess that's just the way the world goes round.

**.:.:Onyx Ruber, 15:.:.**

To be honest, I think I hate the Capitol a little less this year.

Well, to begin with, I never actually _hated_ the Capitol. I just disliked them with a passion.

This year, there could be two victors in the Hunger Games. There's a possibility that Jenifry, the girl who is volunteering, and I will make it out of the arena together _alive_ and not have to face each other's families who hate us when we get back. But then again, we'll have to face the parents of the other tributes and that will not be pretty.

Not that I'm actually going to volunteer or anything. Well, I think I'm not volunteering. I'm only fifteen and I don't think I'm exactly ready yet for the Games. Maybe when I'm eighteen or seventeen I will, but not now. Still, if I get reaped, that would be pretty cool. I would be able to go to the games and die without regretting volunteering. Not that I'm going to die.

"ONYX!"

"Beautiful morning, isn't it, Mother?" I smile as my mother walked up to me with a frown of disapproval on her face.

"Don't you mother me," she says, wagging her finger at my direction. "What are you doing here? The reaping's in less than an hour!"

I roll my eyes. I'm under the old oak tree growing in my backyard. Yes, our yard is big enough for an oak tree. My father works for the Mayor and my mother is s jewellery designer. "Mother, I don't see what you're trying to tell me."

She groans and puts her hand on her forehead. "Just get ready, Onyx. I don't want you missing the reaping this year. There's actually a chance someone like _you_ can win the Games this year."

Ouch. That hurt, Mother. But it's true. I'm too nice to kill twenty-three people in the arena. I guess twenty-two isn't much better, but at least I can have an ally with me.

"Now, now, calm down, Mother," I say, standing up and brushing the grass from my jeans. "I'm going, I'm going."

"Good," she says. "I prepared your suit for you. You better not be late, mister."

**.:.:Jenifry 'Jen' Tranen:.:.**

Ah, the reapings. The terror of some people. The joy of some others. The only of escape for the rest.

I'm not sure what it is to me. My parents would shun me if I didn't volunteer, so that's why I'm volunteering. But deep down inside, I'm wondering, would I volunteer if my parents didn't tell me to?

Well, it's hard to imagine, really. I've been told by my parents since I began training at nine years old that I'll have to volunteer at some time. They wanted me to volunteer when I'm already seventeen or eighteen, but I don't want to miss the Quarter Quell this year. I like the Quarter Quell this time. It's the first one since the rebellion, so everyone's pretty excited. Especially when they announced the two victors thing a few weeks back.

Lilly is a few people from me and I wave at her. She waves back, mouthing good luck to me as the Mayor walks onstage.

He does his yearly speech for us, which no-one really listens to. He steps back to let room for the escort, Manderin Hensra.

"Happy Hunger Games, District 1! I take it you're all excited for the reaping?" she perks up, doing a little jump on her toes after each sentence. I think it's a habit for her, because she's done that a lot of times before.

Manderin is answered by a few cheers from the crowd, mainly from me. Everyone knows I'm volunteering, and unless they haven't seen me training, their tiny little heads will try to volunteer against me.

She does her own little speech about the Dark Days and how the Hunger Games have come to. Also, there's an extra part on the Quarter Quell and the two victors. Everyone excitedly chatters about it.

"Now for the reapings! Ladies first!" She fixes her green wig as she walks over to the glass ball containing the names of every child in the district. She circles her hand over the bowl, creating a thick layer of tension in the air, and finally her perfectly manicured finger dived in and pulled a name out.

**.:.:Onyx Ruber, 15:.:.**

"Savannah Lusatia!"

Three… two… one… "I VOLUNTEER!"

There she is, in the thirteen year olds' section, shining ever so brightly. Jenifry Tranen. I remember seeing her from training before, but never really noticed how beautiful she is. Golden blonde curls tumble down her back and a pair of determined sky blue eyes match the dress she's wearing. "I volunteer as tribute!"

I notice a girl with black hair and purple dress run over to Jenifry, give her a brief hug and scurry back to her place in the sixteen year olds' section. Wow. A kid three years younger than the reaped one volunteers for them. That must be a first.

The golden-haired beauty walks on stage with pride. Yes, she's beautiful, and her personality traits suit my taste perfectly. I might get to know her in the arena.

Manderin Hensra asks for her name. "Jenifry Tranen. Please, everyone, call me Jen." She waves at everyone in the crowd as the clap for her (they don't actually want to clap for her, they're forced by Manderin to do so).

"Alright then! That was just splendid, Jennifer!"'

"It's Jenifry," Jenifry says. "And you can just call me Jen."

"Of course," the escort says. She saunters over to the next glass bowl. "Now, for all you gentlemen!"

Manderin does the same thing with us to build tension. She circles her hand over the glass bowl, and after what seems like forever, her small hand digs into the pile and pulls out a name. She reads it out.

"Onyx Ruber!"

Yes! I'm reaped! I was reaped!

I do a little fist punch and march onstage, all the way with a big grin on my face.

"You seem very happy to have been reaped," Manderin points out, and a few forced chuckles (literally forced, because Manderin give this look to the crowd saying, "If you don't think this is funny, I just might pick another name from that glass bowl." Not that that's allowed) run through the lines of people, even the parents.

"Now, may I present you, the 100th Annual Hunger Games' District One tributes, Jennifer Tranen and Onyx Ruber!"

She tells us to shake hands, and as I do so, I notice the twinge of annoyance in Jenifry's eyes for the mispronouncing of her name.

I smirk.

**.:.:Jenifry 'Jen' Tranen, 13:.:.**

"We're so proud of you, our little girl!"

This is incredibly untrue. Lilly has always been their 'little girl'. I don't know how. She never trained for the Hunger Games, yet they still loved her more than me. But, oh well. At least now I have a good chance of getting them to like me more.

I let my parents hug me and give me kisses and all that. This carries on for a while, until they finally let me go and let Lilly give me a hug. Hers was the most comforting.

"I'm going to miss you," she says, and I can feel the moisture running down my shirt coming from her eyes. Lilly is the only one who cried. I take note of this.

I hug her back. "I'll miss you too, Lil."

A peacekeeper comes in and tells my family to leave. They do so, but Lilly gives me one last peck on the cheek and jogs off to join my parents. Then, Jayleen comes in and engulfs me in a bone-crushing hug.

She doesn't try to hold in her sobs. She's choking on her own tears. I feel sorry for her immediately. My best friend has never had siblings before, and she treats me and Lilly as her own sisters. Especially me. Well, at least, if I die, which I'm not going to, Jayleen will have Lilly and won't be _completely_ alone.

"You idiot," she says, but I know she doesn't mean it. "How could you? You could've at least told me so I had a heads-up on your volunteering."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you didn't know," I whisper, rubbing my hand up and down her back. "I thought I made sure everyone did."

She pulls away. "It's… it's okay. I know your parents must've forced you to."

We stay there like that for a while. Sitting on the sofa in the crying room, with our best friends opposite of us.

The same peacekeeper comes in and tells Jayleen she has to go.

"I promise I'll see you soon," I say at her. "You know I mean it." She smiles as she's taken out of the room.

But, truth is, I'm not exactly that sure I mean it.

**.:.:Onyx Ruber, 15:.:.**

The goodbyes went by pretty fast. My parents were oh-so proud of me, but my brother wasn't. He was angry that I was going to leave him here. I know that he hates being alone, and even if I do come home, which I will, he'll have to wait alone at home while my parents work.

When they leave, I feel the weight of guilt rest on my shoulders.

A different peacekeeper comes in and ushers me out of the room to the train. On the train is Jenifry, whose eyes seem a bit puffy.

"I thought it was you who wanted to volunteer," I say to her.

"I… don't think I wanted to." I raise an eyebrow at her. "My parents pressured me into doing it. It's… it's their fault my best friend and sister are going to only have each other if I die."

"You're not going to die," I tell her and give her what was supposed to be a reassuring pat on the back. I sit down next to her on the velvet couch. "I've seen you training. You've got a pretty high chance of winning."

I smile at her, and she smiles back. "Of course, you're going to need a man's protection while you're out there…"

"Oh, please, I could take down all twenty-three tributes down single-handedly, including _you_," she says, but she laughs as well. "It's nice meeting you, Onyx."

"My pleasure."


	4. District 2: Tebetta and Sharp

**.:.:Titiana Atria Tebetta, 17:.:.**

The whole world swirls around me as I open my eyes.

For a brief second, I can't remember where I am, or _who_ I am.

_My name is Titiana Atria Tebetta. I was adopted at a young age by Hera Tebetta. I am in the Tebetta household, sleeping in the comfiest room in the house. I am seventeen years old. Today is the reaping. I am going to volunteer for the reaping. As in, take part in the Hunger Games._

That was enough to snap me back to reality. I sit up from bed, propping myself up with my elbows. The room is dimly lit by the light shining through the thin curtains on the windows. When did I close the curtains last night? Hera must have done that. Also, I don't think I turned off the lampshade next to me before falling asleep. The book I was reading then is on the ground, next to the bed, probably must've tumbled off when I woke up.

"Titiana! Wake up! Breakfast is nearly ready!"

I sigh and let my feet fall onto the carpet underneath me. After a few seconds of stretching, I stand up and pad my way to the bathroom.

_The reaping… is today. I'm finally seventeen years old and must volunteer in order for Hera not to be disappointed in me. I must not disappoint Hera. She loves me so and wants me to repay her with victory. If I win, I will be able to stay with her forever… but don't I need to stay in the Victor's Village? Would Hera want to move in with me?_

No, Titiana. Don't think those thoughts now. It's not the time.

I let it all wash away and go down the drain along with the warm water coming from the shower.

**.:.:Maximillian Sharp, 18:.:.**

"Crap, crap, crap…"

I'm late for the reapings. How long had I been working? Think it was since twelve last night. It's nearly eight now, so that's eleven hours…

Everyone stares at me as I run to my place in the eighteen year olds' section. They're all fancily clad in suits and pretty dresses, while I'm in my grime-covered jumpsuit. Fine, maybe I don't exactly look the best for the reapings, but who the hell cares? It's my last year and there's probably no chance that the escort, Demetrius Stoic, is going to pick my name from that glass bowl.

I try to brush some of the dirt off from my jumpsuit. It doesn't go off. Oh, well. I'll change when I get back.

Demetrius skips – yes, skips – onstage and beams at the crowd. He's wearing an orange suit this year, with a green bowtie and green shoes to match his groomed, forest green hair.

"Welcome, welcome, children of District 2! You must know me as Demetrius Stoic, your escort!" He sounds ever so enthusiastic. If you listen closely, you can tell that his voice was genetically altered to be high-pitched and kind of like a girl's. Some people in my line snort at this. Either that or they were snorting at what I was wearing.

"Now, this year is a very _special_ year!" Whispers go through the crowd about the specialty of this year's Quarter Quell – there could be two victors from the same district coming out of the arena. Demetrius coughed, silencing everyone.

"As I was saying, this year is a very _special _year. This year is the fourth Quarter Quell, where the two people I will pick next can come out of the arena, alive, _together_!"

Everyone claps. Demetrius flashes another smile, this time probably for the cameras. "So, for the reaping!"

He circles both of his hands over the glass bowls. I bet all the other districts have their escorts pick the names separately, but Demetrius likes making his little twists to everything.

The hands that have been creating the tension in the crowd finally dive into the pile of names. They both shoot back up at perfect timing, and Demetrius expertly flicks them open using only his thumb.

"Maya Schertz and Maximillian Sharp!"

I hear a scream from the twelve year olds section. Just then, a hand shoots up from the seventeen year olds and the owner of that hand yells, "I volunteer!"

**.:.:Titiana Atria Tebetta, 17:.:.**

"Well, sweetie, what's your name?"

Stoic flashes his unnaturally white teeth at me. I blink.

"Um. Titiana. My name's Titiana Atria Tebetta."

"What a lovely name!" he says. He puts his hand on my back and makes me face the rows and rows of people in front of me. "People, our female tribute, Titiana Atria Tebetta!"

Everybody claps and cheers on Demetrius' command. I smile at them – I need to make a good impression for the cameras.

The male tribute, who I recall was named Maximillian Sharp, came up the stairs of the stage. He had a smirk plastered on his face.

"You must be Maximillian Sharp!" Demetrius said, and I couldn't help giving him that 'duh' look behind his back. Maximillian seemed to notice and laughed.

Demetrius didn't suspect anything and faced the crowd again. "Maximillian and Titiana, District Two's tributes for the fourth Quarter Quell! You two, shake hands."

Maximillian takes my hand and shakes it. "It's nice to meet you, Titiana."

"Likewise, Sharp."

**.:.:Maximillian Sharp, 18:.:.**

I sit there, in the crying room, alone.

It's kind of ironic how I'm in a place called a crying room, yet nobody in here is crying. Well, I'm the only one here, and why should I cry? There's no point. It's not like there's anyone that's going to miss me if I die.

But I'm not the slightest bit sad. Now that I'm in the Games, I'm going to win. I'm going to win back my family's honor. I'm going to not be Max, the weirdo from the factory I work in, but Max, the victor of the 100th Hunger Games, along with… what's her name again? Titiana Atria Tebetta. That's a nice name. It suits her tough demeanor.

After a few minutes of doing nothing in the crying room, the door opens. I expect it to be a peacekeeper ushering me aboard the train but it's Ewan, the only friend I have.

"Hey," he says, awkwardly standing in front of the door. We've always had that sort of awkward-but-close-friends kind of relationship.

"Um, hey," I say, scratching the back of my head.

"So," he starts. "The Hunger Games, huh? Sounds… cool."

"It's a lot scarier than it may seem," I say. It was true – for once in my life, I was pretty much scared to death.

"I can tell." Ewan is probably the only person on Earth who can understand how I feel. My face is nearly always straight and emotionless, and if not, with a smirk plastered on it. I guess that's why we're best friends, despite the awkward aura that seems to follow us whenever we meet up.

"It's kind of lonely, not having anyone else saying goodbye to me." I rest my head on my fist.

"Well, I'm saying goodbye to you, aren't I?"

The corner of my mouth twitches. "Yeah. Thanks for that." I stand up and walk over to him

"I'll see you soon, hopefully," he says. We shake hands, and just at that moment, a peacekeeper comes in and tells us our time is up.

"Hopefully," I echo as they walk out of the room.

Hopefully. Hopefully, I won't die in the arena. Hopefully, I'll get back home in one piece, and not in a coffin.

**.:.:Titiana Atria Tebetta, 17:.:.**

"I'm so proud of you, Titiana," Hera says, hugging me tighter. "I'm so, so proud of you."

I felt the hot tears pour from Hera's face onto my cheeks. I felt sorry for her. I was coming back a victor, but still, she's going to have to live alone until I come back. There are the Avoxes to keep her company and do her chores for her, but it won't be the same. I let myself cry as well. Hera will understand that they're not of fear, but of pity.

"I'll miss you," I say. "What am I going to do without your advice? I might slip up. I might do something wrong that'll kill me _and_ my district partner… Hera, I'm going to need your help so bad in the arena."

"You won't," she whispers and gives me a peck on my forehead. "You'll be just fine, my little Dalmatian. Just fine."

I smile at my old nickname. When I was two, I was found on the streets by her. I was wearing a dog tag saying my name, birthday and blood type. It's kind of sad, how my parents treated me as if I was a dog. They didn't give me a pretty locket or anything, just a dog tag. My black hair was wet from the rain and was sticking to my pale face, making me look like a Dalmatian. Of course Hera never actually mistook me for an actual dog, but the name kind of stuck a few years later when she told me about that story.

A peacekeeper comes in and tells my mother our time is up.

"Just a moment," she says. She takes a bag out of her purse and gives it to me. Before I can ask what it is, the peacekeeper takes her away and I'm left on my own in the crying room.

I open the bag, and inside is a bronze armband. I pick it up and take in the engraving on it. It's simple but beautiful. Just how Hera knows I like things.

I put in on my wrist and admire it. I _will_ win the Hunger Games, and it will all be for Hera. Nobody else. Just Hera, the one person who has bothered to care about me after all those years of being alone.

**.:.:Maximillian Sharp, 18:.:.**

My district partner, Titiana, comes in just as I sit down on the fluffy sofa at the lounge.

"Sharp, we need to discuss some things," she says. Wow. Talk about straightforward.

"Hello to you too, Titiana," I say, grinning and ignoring her previous comment.

"Don't call me that," she growls. "Call me by my last name, you fool. You don't get attached to strangers too quickly like that, especially in a situation like this."

"Fine, then, _Tebbie_," I say. This seems to anger her more.

"It's _Tebetta_, idiot."

"I prefer Tebbie." I kick my shoes off, which land barely an inch away from Titiana's – no, _Tebbie's_, arm. "So, what do you want to 'discuss' about?"

Her left eyes twitches, and I notice the scar on her eyebrow. Probably from a close encounter in training, I guess. "Just… just forget it. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'm tired."

She storms off, and just before she closes the door to her room, I say, "Good night, _Tebbie_. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Slam.

I have a feeling me and Tebbie are going to get along _just_ fine.


	5. District 3: Drake and Tullos

**.:.:Rayne Tullos, 12:.:.**

"Your sister loved taking you and Wayne for walks in the park…"

I keep running the lavender brush through my mother's chocolate brown hair.

"You'd always somehow get lost, and she and Wayne would have to find you somehow…"

I nod, smiling as the memory came back to me.

"They'd eventually find you, and you would refuse to say that you got lost… You'd say that you were just playing hide and seek…"

I chuckle at the younger version of me, the once stubborn little kid.

"When you came home, you'd say sorry for making them worry and make everyone dinner… It was usually just tuna sandwiches, but to me, they were the best tuna sandwiches in the world…"

"Mom, do you want me to braid your hair?" I ask her. Call me girly, but yes, I know how to braid hair and even enjoy it at some times. It's just that when you're the only one who takes care of your mother in the family, it kind of rubs off on you and you learn everything a daughter should learn. Just my luck I'm not a girl, I guess.

"Oh, it's okay, darling," she says. "You should go get dresses for the reaping now."

I nod again, before putting the brush onto the dressing table and walking off to my own room.

I hate it when people call my mother crazy. They always say that there's something wrong with her, and maybe there is, but they're stupid. I mean, would _they_ stay as the normal, cheery, happy person they were before their most loved family member was taken and turned into an Avox? I don't think so. They're all jerks. Idiots. Hypocrites.

Wayne had just come out of the shower. I took a shower a few minutes ago, but I was still wearing my nightclothes.

"Get dressed," I say to him. "We have half an hour left."

**.:.:Lakia Drake, 13:.:.**

"Where are my little princesses?" I say, searching the area.

Giggles run through the room. I grin, tiptoeing over to one of the three pink and white beds. "Oh, maybe they're in the closet somewhere. I'll go check…"

I lower my head to the bed, where there are more giggles coming from three voices. At the least second, my head pops under the bed and I cry out a "Boo!" making them all shriek.

We all erupted into fits of laughter, mostly my little sisters. They crawled out from under the beds, wearing their pink and purple princess PJ's and their hair disheveled. "Look at the state of you three!"

"It was Lara's idea," Louise says, pointing at the tallest of them three. Lara was twelve, while Louise was nine and Lacey the youngest, aged six.

"Well, you agreed to it," Lara retorts, nudging her little sister.

"I didn't want to do it," Lacey says, raising her hand. I laugh at my sisters.

"Come on, now, go take a bath. I'll get your dresses ready." They all smile and skip to the bathroom. Lara was always in charge when they had to take showers.

I myself was still in my sleeping clothes, but I already took a shower. I go to my room and put on a bright pink dress, something my mother bought for me when I turned twelve last year. It had slightly puffy sleeves and a lighter pink ribbon at the waist with a bow at the back. I slip on a pair of matching shoes before grabbing three dresses, which I ironed the previous night for my little sisters, and skipping back to their room.

Just as I lay the dresses onto their beds, they came out of the shower dresses in towels.

"Come on you three, get dressed before breakfast is ready!" I demand.

They do so, with me helping to tie the ribbons hanging at the back of their dresses. Lara has a dress identical to mine but it's made of lilac fabric and it has a darker purple sash. Louise and Lacey have matching sundresses, both of them yellow with a pink flower pattern imprinted on them.

When they're finished dressing, Mom comes into the room.

"You all look beautiful," she says. She turns to me. "Let me do your hair for you, darling."

I sit myself down onto their pink and white princess dressing table and Mom takes out a curling iron from her bag. I don't know why she carries it around with her. She ties my black hair up into a perfect high ponytail and curls it, while my bangs are clipped back. I let Lara put on a bit of lip gloss on my lips. When they're done, I make Lara sit down and do her makeup.

"It's your first reaping, so you need to make a good impression," I say, smiling.

After a while, her hair is tied into pigtails and her fringe is straight, covering most of her forehead. She's wearing lip gloss as well, and when she turns around to show Louise and Lacey, she gets a few _oohs_ and _ahs_ from them.

I pat her head. "Come on, let's go downstairs to eat," I say, trying to sound as cheery as possible. They quickly stand up and run out of the room.

The reaping is in less than an hour and I'm dreading every second, because I know that my name has been put in the glass bowl several more times for committing crimes in the area. What's worse, as a punishment, is that my sister Lara will have her name put in three times.

As I leave the room, I pray for her safety and for me to get reaped instead.

**.:.:Rayne Tullos, 12:.:.**

Lakia was walking to the thirteen year olds' section when I saw her. Well, she saw me first and practically strangled me with another one of her bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, let go!" I say, laughing. Truth be told, I don't want her to let go. But we can't hug for long when there are so many people around us. "I don't want my new shirt to get wrinkled!"

"Sorry, Rayne," Lakia says, pulling away. "You look so adorable today."

I blush uncontrollably. _Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Don't blush, you fool_.

"I'm just teasing you," she laughs, pinching my cheek. "But you do look nice."

I smile at this. I was wearing a bright white shirt, which I mentioned before, was new. I also had my best black khaki pants and white shoes which I saved up for myself. My wavy chocolate brown hair, which I got from my mother, was styled back, with the help of my father.

"Thanks," I say, but my cheeks are still tinted pink. "You look pretty."

It was her turn to blush. She usually does that when she's complimented, because she's such a modest person. That's one of the many reasons I like her. "Thank you…"

"Hey, there you are," comes the voice of Wayne, my twin brother. He's much shorter than me, even though he's a few minutes older than me. He's wearing the same outfit as me, except he's wearing a light blue shirt, once again courtesy of our father. His shoes are a pair of black loafers which had once been mine but were too small.

"We'd better get going," Wayne says. He smiles at Lakia. "Hi, Lakia. How's Lara?"

"She's great," Lakia replies, and she and I share a knowing look. Wayne is just as much in love with Lara as I'm in love with Lakia.

"That's good," he says. "Send my regards to her."

Lakia nods, and Wayne and I walk over to our place in the twelve year olds' section, me waving back at my best friend. We spot Lara in one of the girls' lines. She's shaking and I feel sorry for her. Wayne is shaking as well as the mayor walks up the stairs to the stage. He makes his speech, and when he finishes, our escort, Ronda, skips onstage.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor," she says in that nearly-sarcastic voice of her. I can't help but grin at her tone.

"Now, it is time to choose the female tribute of District 3," she says, smiling but her eyes looked slightly bored.

As she walks over to the glass bowl closer to the girls' lines, I pray that it isn't Lakia. I don't want her to experience the pain my brother did when he died in the bloodbath. And I don't want her mother to have that hole in her heart that my mother has.

**.:.:Lakia Drake, 13:.:.**

I suck in a breath. _Please don't be Lara… please don't be Lara… She's too weak and innocent…_

It isn't her. Another girl's name is called.

For a moment, I feel a gush of relief. There's a silence hanging in the hall, and suddenly, I realize all eyes are on me.

Ronda has called my name.

"Lakia Drake?" she calls out again, but it comes out as a question.

There's s shove from behind me. A peacekeeper pushes me onstage, and suddenly, I feel hot tears falling down my cheeks. _It's not Lara… It's me… I'm the female tribute of District 3 for the 100__th__ Hunger Games… the fourth quarter quell…_

I realize something. The fourth Quarter Quell. I can win this, if my teammate and I stick together. There aren't many strong boys in District 3, but a lot of them are geniuses. So if we work together, he could make up for my lack of thinking ahead and I'll make up for his lack of strength. We could actually win this…

…that was until I heard the male tribute's name being called.

"Wayne Tullos!"

There's a small shriek at the back, from the parents. Wayne's poor old mother is in her husband's arms, shaking and bursting into tears. I feel instant pity for her, but that's one of the least of my worries now. Wayne... Rayne's twin brother was reaped… I look for him in the crowd and he's standing there, shaking as well, but not crying though I'm sure he will soon. I look at Rayne who's just next to him.

He stares back. And suddenly, his hand jolts up in the air and he cries out, "I volunteer!"

I had to hold onto a pillar nearby to not collapse. Rayne is coming into the arena with me…

**.:.:Rayne Tullos, 12:.:.**

"I volunteer…" I repeat, much more quiet, but it's not much more than a whisper.

I step slowly out of the crowd, walking to the stage where Ronda is beaming and Lakia is holding onto a pillar for support. Why… why am I doing this? I… I just volunteered… for my brother…

When I'm standing next to Ronda, I can't even look at Lakia in the eyes. I know she's either surprised, upset, crying or, worse, disappointed. In me.

"Oh, we have a _volunteer_," Ronda says in that possibly sarcastic voice of hers. I didn't have the strength to laugh this time. "So, what's your name?"

"Rayne Tullos," I whisper. My throat has suddenly gone dry.

"Excuse me?"

"Rayne Tullos," I say again, a bit louder.

"Ah, you must be his brother," she says and smiles. "What a sweet thing to do." She turns to the crowd and smiles even wider, for the cameras this time, which are all over the place. "Ladies and gentlemen, District 3's tributes, Lakia Drake and Rayne Tullos!"

There's no clapping, other than a few awkward ones coming from several people. Everyone hates it when a twelve or thirteen year old is reaped, and this is no different. Well, actually, it is. This time… it's me. And I know I have a chance. I know I'm strong from working in the wire making factory. I know that if I work with Lakia, that is, if she forgives me for signing my own death sentence, I might win. District 3 actually has a chance this year, no matter how young the tributes are.

I turn to Lakia, and her face seems to read the same thing. She knows we can win this thing. And maybe we will. Well, at least maybe one of us…

**.:.:Lakia Drake, 13:.:.**

"LAKIA!"

It's ironic how I've been ambushed even before the Games started. My three sisters leaped on me and made me fall to the carpeted floor of the crying room. "Lakia!" they repeat, and all of them have burst into tears already.

I sit up and properly hug them. "It's okay, I'm here… Lakia's here…"

I stay in that position no matter how uncomfortable it feels. The thought of leaving these three is just too painful. Who would wake them up and tell them to take a shower so they aren't late for school? Who would take them home from school and help them with their homework? Who would take them for their three-times-a-week walks while singing nursery rhymes on the way? Who would tuck them in at night and read them a bedtime story? I feel the hot tears leak out from my eyes going down my cheeks.

"Lakia," comes another voice. It's my mother.

She crouches down and joins the group hug. "Lakia… I… I can't believe it…"

"I'm so sorry," I say to her, though I'm not sure why.

"There's no reason to be sorry," my mother comforts me, stroking my black hair.

We finally let go so we didn't run out of time to say goodbye to my older brothers and father. Landon, who is two years older than me but barely taller than me, envelopes me in a bear hug. He's been that teddy-bear kind of big brother to me. To everyone, actually, even those who aren't his family.

"Take care of them," I say, because I know Mom won't be able to take care of the threesome alone. "They'll need you. You're closer to them than Louis."

"Hey," Louis says from behind Landon.

I let Landon go and give Louis a hug. "Sorry, but it's true. Still, I'll miss you too. Help dad with work."

He nods. "I will. Take care, lil' sis."

He releases me and I turn to my father. He gives me a gentle smile, but doesn't hug me. He hands me a necklace instead. "Lara, Louise and Lacey made it for you. There's a message inside it."

Before I can say thank you, a peacekeeper shoves the door open and ushers my family out. Less than a minute later, another peacekeeper comes in and pushes me out of the Justice Building and makes me board the train.

Inside the train, Rayne is sitting on a chair and examining a ring on his finger. He looks up and sees me before standing up and walking over to me. I hug him closely.

"We're going to the Games…" I whisper. "We're both going…"

"Hush," he says, caressing my hair in his fingers. "It's okay… At least we'll be together…"

At least we'll be together. I can't comprehend whether that's a good or bad thing. Well, it doesn't matter. We'll try to win. And if we'll die… I'll just hope that we die together, in each other's arms.

Because I don't want to live through all the pain.


	6. District 4: Grace and Hunt

**.:.:Angel Grace, 15:.:.**

"I thought we made a deal; no leaving socks in my bedroom," I say to my little sister, Amnesty.

"You said no leaving _my_ socks around your bedroom," she cheekily replied. "Those are _yours_."

"Why in the world of Panem would you throw Angel's socks around her own room?" Artemis butts in, putting her head through the door.

I shake my head. "Amnesty, I'm going downstairs to make breakfast. If my room isn't clean by the time I go upstairs to take a shower, you'd better watch out."

Amnesty shivers and reluctantly starts picking up whatever was lying around that isn't supposed to be there. I turn to Artemis. "Go help her."

She doesn't need to be told twice. In a second, she's at Amnesty's side, putting whatever she was holding in a trash bag which she got from… somewhere. I wasn't in the mood to ask where.

I go downstairs and look for eggs in the fridge. My father's at work, and he has to get to work especially early today because it's reaping day. Kids aren't the best people to work with, especially when they're being sent to their deaths in the arena.

I start frying the eggs and take out a separate pan for frying bacon. Adair, my brother, comes downstairs still dressed in his nightclothes. I take out a plate and pour the eggs and bacon onto it. I lie the plate in front of him.

"Get dressed when you're finished," I say, starting to cook another plate of eggs and bacon.

Amnesty and Artemis come down eventually, showered and dressed in their best clothes. Amnesty's wearing a pretty pink dress with slightly puffy sleeves and a bright pink bow in her curly brown hair and Artemis is wearing a gold spaghetti strap dress with white ballet flats and pearl earrings, which I remember I got her for her eleventh birthday. She was thrilled when she got them.

My youngest sister runs over to me and gives me a hug, which nearly makes me drop the two plates of food I was still holding. She was lucky I put the third one on the counter because that would've definitely dropped.

"Eggs and bacon, eggs and bacon!" Amnesty giggles when she takes the plate from my hand and skips to the counter to eat it. Artemis is already digging into her breakfast.

"I'm taking a shower," Adair says, putting his plate in the sink and going upstairs.

"I better do that too," I say, stuffing the last piece of bacon in my mouth. I stand up and jog to the stairs. "You guys clean the dishes!"

**.:.:Damion Hunt, 16:.:.**

The fork drops onto my plate with a small _clink_.

I take a seat at my dining table and start taking bites of my so-called breakfast. It was just roast fish, which I ate almost every day unless I find something nice I can afford in the market. Like a lot of people in my district, I'm a fisherman and sell and eat fish. Most of the good fish are for selling, but there's usually enough left just for me. Having no family kind of has an upside – you don't have to feed any more than one person; you.

Once I'm finished eating the slightly burnt fish, I throw it in the pile which was once known as my sink. I'll have to clean them when I get back from the reaping, if I ever do get back.

When I'm in my bedroom, which consisted of nothing more than a small bed next to a little dresser, a light on the ceiling, a window and a mirror, I change into the best clothes I have – a tight fitting black shirt and ripped jeans, which, by the way, weren't really supposed to be ripped. But no-one needs to know that.

After giving my home one last look, I put on my shoes and walked out of the door.

It was fairly quiet in my street. There was only three or four more houses around, since I lived in the outskirts of the district, but as I walked on into the city, it became busier. Families were making their way through the crowd together, young children were shaking in fear while their mothers tried to reassure them and older kids were trying to shove their way to their place at the town square.

I looked around, but the person I was looking for was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and my eyes widened.

"Looking for someone?" Angel Grace asked me in that beautiful, sweet voice of hers.

"Hi, Angel," I say, the corners of my mouth rising. "Um, yeah, I think I was looking for you…"

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" she asked, folding her arms across her white tiered sundress.

"Huh?"

"At school, you said see you at the reaping…"

"Oh." I laugh at her misunderstanding. "I didn't mean that, Angel. When someone says 'see you somewhere' it doesn't necessarily mean they have something to talk to you about."

"So you don't want to talk with me?"

"What? No! I love you- I mean to talk to you. I'd love t-to talk to you, but I don't know what to talk to you about." I scratch my head and let out a nervous chuckle.

She blinks at me. Then she lets out a glorious laugh that sounds as if church bells were chiming. "You're strange, Damion. But I like you. Should we hang out some other time at school?"

"Sure," I say. With that, she waves her perfectly manicured nails at me and skips away, her dirty blonde and silver hair bouncing behind her.

I know, she sounds like some blonde bimbo, but she is so not. I've seen her training, even trained _with_ her, which a lot of people at school haven't. And she's vicious. But that's why I think she's so damn sexy.

Running a hand through my brown hair, I proceed to the sixteen year olds' section. I don't know anyone in the flush of people because I never get the time to socialize with people, unless it's Angel. The mayor walks onstage. He's fairly young compared to our previous mayor. He's in his early thirties and has coal black hair that's always slicked back.

"Welcome, children of District Four!" he cries out to us, and there are a few excited murmurs going through the crowds. This is a Career district, so people are bound to get excited.

He gives us the speech every mayor gives us about the Dark Days, but with his young and cheery personality I kind of concentrated on it. Not really, but I concentrated enough to realize I wasn't concentrating.

The escort, Latiora, finally goes onstage. Her disgusting puke-green face has a large, Capitol-altered pouty smile on it. Her straight, yellow hair is actually done normally this year, done in an up-do with chopsticks and flowers.

She speaks in an annoying, high-pitched voice, which I have learnt to block out over the past years. Once she's finished, she says something else that I don't hear and her hand dives into the glass bowl filled with names. I close my eyes and hope it isn't one of Angel of her siblings, because her sisters and brother are all weak and innocent. They were the only ones nice to me, especially her youngest sister, Amnesty. None of them have been trained or were ready enough to face the arena and what's in it.

Well, at least, if one of them is reaped, especially Angel, I would be able to volunteer for them or to help them…

"Angel Grace!"

My heart stops. My eyes avert to the small blonde girl in the fifteen year olds' section who is letting out a sigh of relief. But then her face hardens.

"Oh, that's me."

**.:.:Angel Grace, 15:.:.**

Run and get a sword. Slaughter anyone you don't know who has a useful-looking backpack while your district partner gets one for themselves. Get another weapon, preferably knives or a bow and arrow. Find some extra clothes for the nights. Meet up with Careers. Let them do most of the work. Stab them in the back. Survive with district partner.

My plan was running through my head as I walked on the stage. My body was almost shaking – _almost_, because I don't want to make the other Careers to think I'm took week before I join them – and my face was as solid as rock. Tears lined the bottom of my eyes, but it's all an act. In fact, most of my life is an act. Unless I'm with my family, I'm just some pretty girl from your school who loves bunnies and rainbows and would do you anytime. It's all an act so they don't see the real me, and… I don't like the real me. I'm far too violent and cruel when I'm with people I don't like and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to pounce on them.

"And now for the male tribute!" Latiora picks up a name from the boys' glass bowl.

"Park-"

"I VOLUNTEER!" It came out as a scream instead of just a shout, and I can tell it was unintentional. I know it was unintentional because this person… I know them…

Damion. The boy I talked to less than an hour ago.

He walks onstage, his blue-green eyes away from me all the way. If only he'd actually show people his eyes, then maybe they would see what kind of a sweetheart he really is. One of the first reasons I decided to be honestly nice to him was because of his eyes, which showed both kindness and gentleness that no-one else I knew possessed. He seemed like a genuinely nice person, but he doesn't act like one at all with other people. Just my family and I, and the few people in school he thinks aren't hypocrites.

"My, now who do we have here?" Latiora says. "What's your name?"

"Damion Hunt," he says and smiles for the audience. For a moment, everyone is dazzled by that charming smile of his – the perfect white teeth, the slight crease in his left eyes, the dimples… his smile was beautiful. Yet, it was… lifeless. Because it was fake.

"Well, now, District Four! I bring you, our two tributes for the 100th Hunger Games, Angel Grace and Damion Hunt!"

Clapping and cheering are heard, but they're mostly for Damion and his smile. I can tell already that he's going to get a lot of sponsors.

**.:.:Damion Hunt, 16:.:.**

The only person who says goodbye to me is Amnesty.

She came with her older brother, Adair. I had to wait a few minutes because they must've been saying goodbye to Angel, and Amnesty's eyes were already very red and puffy.

She runs over to me and gives me a hug. It felt so warm and comforting, something I haven't had for a while now. I see Adair smiling at me with tear-stained cheeks at the doorway, and even that gives me a warmer feeling.

Amnesty lets go and puts something in my hand. It's a piece of string with a line of flat beads on it, saying 'Hope is never lost'.

"Angel says this to us all the time, and she told me to give it to you," she says. "Take care of it, okay?"

I merely nodded, before the little girl ran off to her brother and disappeared as a peacekeeper comes in. I stand up and follow the peacekeeper to the train.

A body lies on a sofa bed at the lounge of the train. She's just lying there, silent and motionless other than the moving of her chest as she breathes.

"I'm going to the Hunger Games, Damion," Angel says. "I'm going to the Hunger Games. I'm… going to the Hunger Games…" She laughs. She _laughs_. Angel is laughing in a situation like this.

I can tell that if we get home, she won't be completely sane anymore, like our soon-to-be mentor.

"Angel," I say, putting a hand on her back. She slowly turns to me, showing a rock solid face.

"You know, Damion, I think I can trust you." Her pretty features suddenly soften in front of me. "I'm going to need you for a… plan."

I worry for Angel. Even I, the one who supposedly knows the most about Angel next to her siblings, can't tell between her act and reality. It might be hard trusting her when we're in the arena.


	7. District 5: Montgomery

**.:.:Athena Montgomery, 18:.:.**

"_Mama! I met my little brother! He's- he's… Mama?"_

"_Daddy, what's happening? Why won't Mama wake up?"_

"_Mama's not sick! She was fine when I saw her!"_

"_She- she will survive! Mama! Mama, answer me!"_

"_I don't want to hold him! I-I hate him! He made Mama sick!"_

To be honest, I don't know why I hate my brother so much. I know now I'm eighteen it wasn't his fault – my mother died because of illness which she got _after_ giving birth to him. If she was infected when my brother was in her belly, they both would have passed on, so I must be grateful at least one of them survived. Still, I found no relief when I see my brother. It's all a combination of hate, anger and hostility.

The shower's cold water streams down my forehead, onto my nose, my cheeks and eventually down my neck. I decided to wash my hair today because I need to look the best for my last reaping. I've already picked out my outfit I was going to wear.

Soon enough, I'm done with my shower and I wrap myself with a towel before walking into my room. I put on my plain but pretty navy blue dress and a pair of black high heels. These were one of my nicest clothes, though I had fancier dresses tucked away in my closet. My family wasn't exactly on the rich side of the district, but we definitely had enough money for at least a bit of luxury.

When I'm dressed, I take out a hairdryer from the drawer of my makeup table and start drying my hair. I do this for around fifteen minutes, and when my hair is perfectly dry with a white hairband on it, I walk out of my room and go up to Electryon's bedroom door.

"ELECTRYON! HURRY UP! WE'RE LEAVING IN HALF AN HOUR!"

I know I was being unfair. Electryon didn't have an alarm clock like me so he must have only woken up when I banged on his door. Whatever, it's not like I care about him. He can miss the reaping altogether for what I care…

…but then I realize it's his first reaping.

Oh well, it's not like he'll be reaped anyway. He's only got his name in there once.

**.:.:Electryon Montgomery, 12:.:.**

The yelling outside my room makes my fall onto the floor with a loud _thump_.

I glance around my room for any sign of what time it is. The sun is already up and it's quite bright, and it's usually still a bit dark when I wake up on time. I'm late, that's certain.

I scurry onto my feet and dash for the door, which was left open for me by my lovely sister. I run to the bathroom and even with the little time I had, I took a quick shower. I needed to look my best for my first reaping to make a good first impression.

I brush my brown curls into place and put on my nightclothes before running back to my room to get dressed. My suit is laid on the ironing board in the corner of my room. I'm the one in charge of laundry in the house. When I'm in my white shirt, black trousers and blazer, I struggle with my tie. I give up on it and run downstairs, throwing it on the floor.

Athena is at the table, eating breakfast with Dad. Dad smiles at me, but Athena gives me no more than a glance.

"Sorry, kiddo," he says, standing up and collecting his and Athena's plates. "I thought you'd already woken up. Do you want me to make you something? We won't be _that_ late for the reaping."

"No thanks." I open a drawer and take out a glass. "It's my first reaping. I don't want to be late no matter how I dread this day."

He nods, taking out a carton of orange juice from the fridge and giving it to me. I hear a slam coming from the front door. Athena had left to go to the reaping on her own. Dad sighs.

I feel like everything's my fault. Dad always wanted to have a normal father-daughter relationship with Athena but she would never let him. He's always too nice to me, and Athena doesn't approve of that. She has despised me with every fibre of her being from the day I was born. Well, technically, a few weeks after that. My mother died of a horrible fever which she got after giving birth to me. She was too weak to fight through it. I don't remember anything about her funeral, but I know that was the day Athena declared her hatred for her little brother.

I wouldn't blame her. I know it's a bit immature, but if my mother had died after giving birth to a younger sibling, I would hate that younger sibling as well. I remember reading from somewhere that 'forgiveness is the only way out of the labyrinth'. Well, I guess the labyrinth of 'screw-you-little-brother' isn't as simple as that.

I poured myself some orange juice before quickly drinking it. When I'm done, I put the glass into the sink before following Dad out the door.

My eyes hurt. It's an overly sunny day today. It usually is in this part of the district. We generate our power with solar panels. I put my arm over my face, trying to block out the light. I didn't have to do that for long, though. I got into my dad's car and we drove off.

We live closer to the factories. The factories are on the outer parts of the district, so it's quite far from the town square. I don't know how Athena would get there, but she always does and is never late. We never ask her because she wouldn't tell us anyway.

The town square comes into view not long after. It's crowded, that much I can say. The crowd is made up mostly of kids, but there are quite a few adults accompanying the children. I step out of the car just after Dad does. We walk to the town square to sign in. I don't see Athena anywhere.

Dad gives me a hug before joining the other parents. I go to the twelve year olds' section by myself, but a few of my friends join me. At least I'm not completely alone.

"Welcome, children of District Five!" I notice that our last year's escort was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a man with turquoise blue skin and golden hair. "My name is Adonis Satin and I am your new escort!"

Even though he sounds cheery and happy, I see s twinge of sadness in his eyes. He's upset. By the way he embodies the ocean and sand, I can tell he was from District Four. They haven't won in a while, so he must have been demoted. I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost. I don't really because he's already got a perfect life.

He gives us a speech about the dark days and how the Hunger Games began. That was usually the mayor's job but I think he's too old for that now. When he was done, he walked over to the girls' names.

I feel as if somebody is watching me. I turn my head to look at the piercing green eyes of my sister. Her stare is completely blank and her eyes dart back to the stage.

I don't know why, but I don't want her to get reaped. This is her last year and she's free after this. She deserves that freedom after what she's been through. So I repeat in my head, _Please don't let it be Athena. Please don't let it be Athena._

**.:.:Athena Montgomery, 18:.:.**

_Please don't let it be me. Please don't let it be me._

It is me.

Adonis Satin calls my name out loud and clear. People look around to see who the girl is. They don't know me. I'm not surprised.

I inhale sharply before stepping out of the crowd. They stare at me. Some are relieved that it isn't a poor, innocent twelve-year-old. Others look sorry about the fact that I, an eighteen-year-old, have lost my chance of freedom.

I silently step onstage. Adonis is beaming but his eyes are blank. Are all people in the Capitol altered to be so emotionless and yet act so friendly? I figure I would find out soon enough.

The crowd continues staring at me. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding before giving a slight nod. It probably gave me the tough girl look. I suppose I would get quite a few sponsors.

"Alright then," Adonis says, passing me and going over to the glass bowl containing the boys' names.

I think about who would be chosen. It's not like I have anything to worry about now. I don't mind going into the Games. I won't have fun or anything, but I won't hate it. If I die in the arena, then I should at least die while protecting someone. My district partner. Well, we could win together this year, but that's unlikely because the gamemakers would probably try to tear us apart. So I hope for a partner who I would easily get along with.

"Electryon Montgomery!"

My breath hitches in my throat. He… he was reaped. Electryon was reaped.

Sure, I might have wished him to hell or wished him to die a torturous death but I never meant it. I would always regret it after though I wouldn't actually say it. Still, I never wanted my brother to go to the Hunger Games. He has a good future ahead of him. He studies hard for school. He makes lots of friends. He is loved by everyone.

I never wanted him to get reaped. And I wasn't the only one.

As he emerges from the crowd, I see he's shaking. Only a little bit, but I see it. He goes onstage and stands next to me. He looks at me for a while, before giving me what I supposed was an encouraging smile. _Good luck,_ I supposed it said.

"Ooh, a twelve-year-old and eighteen-year-old from the same district! It's all a completely different world from what you expected, isn't it?"

We're silent. Everyone else is too. All I hear is a few cries of pity from the mothers and our father being comforted by his friends. He stares at us. I feel so sorry for him. I barely talk to him, but now I understand why he tries so hard to be nice to us.

We are all that he has.

"Shakes hands!" Adonis says after the awkward pause.

I walk towards him. Just as he was going to extend his hand in greeting, I pull him into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry I was ever so mean to you. I'm so, so sorry."

He hugs me back.

"My, are you two siblings?"

I glare at him. "You dimwit. Did you not notice that we have the same surname?"

His smile falters but only for a while. He grabs our hands, a bit too harshly, and makes us face everyone in the district.

"District Five, I bring you your tributes for the 100th Annual Hunger Games!"

There is very little clapping. I'm not surprised.

**.:.:Electryon Montgomery, 12:.:.**

Dad visited Athena first so my friends said goodbye to me while he went.

I was quiet, which is unusual for me. My friends notice that but they don't have the heart to point it out. They also barely say anything. They hug me, each of them, mumbling some words of 'good luck' or 'be safe'. We chatted for a bit while we still had time. There wasn't much to talk about other than the death I'm being sent to, but they tried telling me what they thought I should do. In the arena, I mean. Some had good ideas while the others were pointless.

They left when the peacekeepers ushered them out. A man with dishevelled brown hair and green eyes comes in, not giving me a second to breathe before he engulfs me in a hug. I've done a lot of hugging that day and was tired from it, but the sad look in my Dad's eyes made me hug him back.

He cries into my suit. It's a nice suit and will probably get ruined, but I'm most likely not going to wear it again. So I let him.

We didn't say much before the peacekeeper made Dad leave.

"Promise me you will always stay teammates with Athena," he had said. "Promise me that you will never, ever betray your sister."

I only nodded, and then he was gone. I waited for a minute or so until the same peacekeeper led me to the train.

I survey the train for a while when I'm on board. The finest from District 6, I supposed. I sit at a couch at the lounge, and only moments later, Athena comes out of a room. Her eyes are slightly – very slightly, but I noticed it – puffy and red.

"Hey." Nice one, Electryon. Try another one of those brilliant conversation starters with someone who just walked out of a room where he/she has been crying in.

She nods. I don't know why, but I urged her forward and she complied. She sat next to me.

"Dad told me to promise him I would never betray you." She nods again.

"He told me to never harm you in any way and do everything I can to protect you, no matter what circumstances. I was unsure at first. So then he went to you and asked you to never betray me after I gave him my answer."

It was my turn to nod. "But what did you answer?"

Athena smiles and pulls me into another hug. I was somehow expecting it while not expecting it, so I quickly return it. "I said yes, of course. Of course I will try my best to protect you at all costs no matter what, even if it means my death."


	8. District 6: Minstone and Angelbeam

**.:.:Fandall Angelbeam, 13:.:.**

For the first time in a long time, when I woke up today, I felt fresh and well-rested. It's ironic, since today is the day of the reaping.

But I'm grateful anyway. I sit up and look around the room I share with seven other boys. We've all got identical beds with metal frames and white bed sheets and faded blue blankets. There is a bit of sun seeping through the two windows, each window on a wall adjacent to the other. I slide out of bed and tiptoe my way to the bathroom.

I'm lucky I woke up early. There's only two showers so we often fight over who showers first. The water's cold but it's oddly relieving. I brush my teeth before walking out the door with a towel hanging on my waist. There are two dressers with four drawers, one drawer for each of us. I take out my best clothes; a grey shirt and a black waistcoat with matching trousers. The black trousers were something all of the boys in the orphanage have. The grey shirt was a hand-me-down from one of the older boys who was too big for it, but it was still nice and clean. The waistcoat was something I bought for myself using the money I saved up. It was second hand and wasn't in the best shape, but it was decent enough.

I found my pair of black loafers in the cabinet on the side of the hallway in front of the bedroom door. They were, again, something all of us orphanage boys had. After slipping them on, I walked to the kitchen where breakfast probably wasn't served yet.

The kitchen was empty like I expected. I took two slices of bread and started spreading butter on them before pouring myself a glass of milk. Two or three more kids filed into the kitchen, still groggy and not dressed yet. My best friend, Anastasia, skips over to me a bit later.

"Morning, Fandy," she says, giving me a hug. I smile and hand her a piece of bread.

"You're up earlier than usual," I say.

She shrugged. "I couldn't really get much sleep after waking up from a nightmare." A sad expression passes her face but it disappears quickly.

"You can tell me about it, Ann," I say, putting my hand that wasn't holding the glass of milk on her shoulder.

"The reaping," she mutters. "I dreamt that I was reaped."

My eyes widen in shock. "Ann, that's never going to happen. You will not get reaped. Do you hear me?" She slowly nods. "Even if you do, I will volunteer to protect you."

"Bull," she says. "But… thanks. It's nice to know someone cares." She gives me another hug before going to sit down. I follow her.

I really do hope she isn't reaped. She's the only friend I have and I'm not prepared to lose her.

**.:.:Lydia Minstone, 14:.:.**

"She stole my skirt! I knew it! Give it back, Penelope!"

"I didn't! It's _my_ skirt and you're just jealous Mom didn't get you one as well!"

"No, you are! That's why you stole my skirt!"

"For Pete's sake, it's just a skirt so let me wear it! Choose another one!"

I sigh as I run a brush through my wavy black tresses. Those two are at it again. What's worse is not the fighting itself, but the fact that I will somehow get blamed for it afterwards. They'd accuse me of something to let go of their anger, Marion will beat me and I'll go back to my room and pretend to cry. It'll give them the satisfaction and make them stay away for a while, until the next issue starts.

I sweep invisible dust off the skirt of my blue cotton dress. It was my mother's when she was my age. Marion wanted it but it was too small for her so she threw it out. I managed to save it before it was taken away. It had a few stitches here and there but that's nothing. It looks nice. Marion couldn't care less about what I wear anyway.

When I peep out my bedroom door, Penelope is chasing Kristen down the stairs. I estimate I will be blamed for something once I get back from the reaping. I pull on a pair of old black shoes before going downstairs. My cousins are bickering in the living room while Marion and Joe are eating breakfast in the kitchen.

"Go make yourself something," Joe says. I preferred it when he said something, because at least they're not harsh, cruel words like those Marion would say. She just eats her meal in silence instead.

I make myself a bowl of cereal and a mug of tea. It's a simple and satisfying start of the day. When I'm done, I clean the dishes, which were now piled up. I forgot to wash them yesterday. My bad.

I finish doing the dishes after a few minutes. Everyone has left when I'm outside. I ride my bicycle to the town square since they've taken the car without me. I don't mind. I don't want to be in the same car as them.

The reaping just starts when I arrive. I'm a bit sweaty but it's not noticeable so I make a mad dash for the fourteen-year-old section. A few other girls raise their eyebrows at me but they turn back to the stage as soon as they do.

I turn my head to face our escort, Plum Rosette, as well.

**.:.:Fandall Angelbeam, 13:.:.**

Giving a small wave to Anastasia, I stare at Plum. Her unnaturally massive eyes seem to be staring at each one of us.

She makes her yearly speech before clapping her hands together.

"My favourite part now! The movie!"

I can almost hear the groans of everyone in the district. The screen goes on and clips of the perished District Thirteen play, reminding us of the Dark Days. Another clip shows us the remains of District Twelve, where people were rebuilding the place. It fades into the current District Twelve. It's a lot more organized now but everyone looks so miserable. I wouldn't blame them. I would be too.

Then there's another short movie about our own district. Trains, planes, cars, blah blah blah. Then the screen goes blank. Plum speaks again.

"Now, for the female tribute!" She giggles and claps like a little girl. I roll my eyes and I can nearly feel people do the same. Plum skips over to the girls' names. She quickly pulls one out but takes time to open it.

_Not Anastasia. Please not Anastasia._

"Anastasia Larks."

My ribcage seems to have collapse on my lungs because I can't breathe. Anastasia screams from the fourteen-year-old section. I would scream if I could, but there's no air in my lungs. I was going to pass out.

A hand shoots up from the sea of people. "I volunteer!"

Everyone stares at her. I can't see her very well, but I vaguely make out long, wavy black hair and midnight blue eyes. She walks onstage confidently. Plum smiles and asks he what her name was. She says it.

"My name is Lydia Minstone."

**.:.:Lydia Minstone, 14:.:.**

My name was my mother's middle name. She always wanted to be called Lydia but everyone called her by her first name, Anna. So she named her daughter Lydia instead. It was a pity she wasn't able to see her daughter grow into the teenager she became. But it certainly wasn't a pity that she wasn't there to see her daughter stand onstage, saying the name she loved so much after volunteering.

"Lovely, a volunteer!" Plum did that happy-jumpy thing again that made me just sick. "How exciting! Now, for the district partner you are paired up with!"

I look around the crowd. There are lots of tough boys who seem capable enough to get out of the Games alive with my help. I pray that the one reaped will be one of them.

Plum doesn't hesitate to pull out a name again, wanting to get it all over with. I would too. I hate tension, especially in the reapings.

She reads out a boy's name. "Fandall Angelbeam!"

Eyes dart around the square to see who the boy was. Nobody noticed anyone crying or collapsing or screaming. But I noticed a boy who seemed to have lost his balance in the thirteen-year-olds section. Another boy steadied him and the first boy stared at the other. The one who collapsed had fiery red hair. He glanced at the stage and slowly made his way towards it.

The girl I volunteered for, Anastasia, ran to him to try and stop him. But peacekeepers grabbed her and pulled her away. She was screaming and punching and kicking. Where they siblings? No, they didn't look like it. Anastasia had blonde hair and brown eyes. The boy had red hair and yellowish green eyes.

Those yellowish green eyes stared at me while he went up the steps leading to us. Although my mind was blurry, I vaguely remember his first name was Fandall. I only remember it thanks to Anastasia screaming it when she was being dragged away.

"What a show!" Plum said, putting her hand over her mouth but grinning from ear to ear. _The Capitol must love this_, she must be thinking.

"Now, you two, shake hands!" I oblige. Fandall's hand is cold but sweaty. He doesn't look nervous but the look in his eyes tell me he is.

It also tells me something else.

Something along the lines of, _you trust me, I trust you._

I think I do trust him.

**.:.:Fandall Angelbeam, 13:.:.**

Lydia Minstone was one of the few people I think I trusted in this district.

I almost definitely trust Anastasia, though sometimes I don't tell her things because she can't always keep quiet. But something about Lydia tells me I should trust her because she knows how I feel to have no family. If I remember, when I was five and she was six, her mother died of leukemia. I remember my older sister, Candace, telling me this.

Candace was the one I trusted most in the family next to my father. She was the closest age to me, being fourteen. She loved me and would carry me around the house until I was asleep. She didn't do anything. She just cradled me in her arms and go around the house and I'd eventually get tired for some reason. I could trust her with my life. She could trust me with her life.

She shouldn't have.

When I was seven, my parents went onboard a train to go to work. Although it looked like a nice train, it was one of the simplest in the district. The Capitol didn't care what we went to work in. So they went onboard, Candace, my older brothers Lionel and Parker and my parents. I was only seven and wasn't old enough to work. I would start when I was ten. I stayed at home when they went to work but today I went with them so I could wave them off. I knew my way back.

My mother told me not to follow them in case I got lost on my way back home but I didn't listen. She let me eventually. They boarded the train and I waved wildly at them. The train took off.

I stayed at the train station for a bit. I wish I hadn't. Because I was the first to hear the news. The voice blared from the speaker above me.

_Train Number 1867 has went off course. Rescue team, please meet up at Station 78._

My heart nearly thumped out of my chest. Train 1867 was the one they boarded on.

The next few events were a bit rushed. I ran home and cried. Then I ran back to the town square where the surviving passengers were gathering. No-one in my family was among them. I asked them what happened to Candace, Lionel, Parker, Mom and Dad. They said they died. They took me away from my home. They put me in an orphanage. I stayed there for five years until my name was put into the bowl. I wasn't reaped then. I was reaped the next year.

Now, here I am, sitting in the crying room, staring at the wall, not crying. I was glad. Glad that Anastasia wasn't reaped. There wasn't anyone but her that cared for me here except maybe Lydia. And she was coming with me.

To the Hunger Games. To die. Or to win.

**.:.:Lydia Minstone, 14:.:.**

Marion comes to visit me and slaps me.

"You idiot!" she screams. "You know I hate bloodshed! Now I'm going to have to see my own niece get torn apart by those gamemakers and I'll feel guilty because I was in charge of you!"

My cheek hurts and is probably red. I stay silent.

"If you didn't volunteer, I would still have someone to do the dishes! To do the laundry! To clean the house! Now I have to hire a maid or _worse_, do it myself! You ungrateful little bitch!"

She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me like a madwoman. Penelope and Kirsten are smirking in the background, glad that I finally got into trouble. I'm glad for once that everyone's happy. Everyone including me.

Joe doesn't look that happy, though. There's the slightest hint of concern in his eyes. It's an odd sight for me because he usually doesn't care what they do to me. He was never worried about me before, but I guess being sent to my death is something my uncle should be worried about.

Marion doesn't say anything else. She breathes in and out heavily while Penelope and Kirsten snicker at the sight behind her. Joe sits down on a couch.

"Girls, leave. I need to talk to Lydia alone."

I raise an eyebrow at the strange gesture. Joe is getting stranger every minute. Marion glares at him but obeys, Penelope and Kirsten following behind her. They shoot a scornful look over at me before walking out the door. I look at Joe, who is sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees propping him up. His hands were clasped together and he seemed to be deep in thought.

"What did you want to talk to me?" I ask him.

He sighs. "I… I just wanted to give you this. I meant to give it to you long ago but Marion wouldn't let me. I suppose I can now, though, so here." He held out his hand. A chain dangled from his fist. When he opened it, in the palm of his hand, was a necklace with a metal ring on the end.

"It was your mother's."

I let him put it on me. He clasps the lock together and lets it fall onto my shoulders. I stare up at him and give him a small smile.

"Thank you."

He smiles back, but a peacekeeper comes in and says his time is up. He nods over to me before walking out of the crying room and I'm left alone. That is, until I'm ushered onboard a train.

It's not like I haven't been on a train before. I've been on plenty, either making them or testing them out. But this is not a train. It is simply a moving five-star hotel.

I stare in awe at everything. The velvet loveseats, the golden-framed art on the walls, the brown fur carpet… I get the urge to lie on the floor and make carpet angels. But of course, being trained to bottle up my emotions, I simply stare.

Fandall came in a minute or two later. We exchanged looks.

"Who was Anastasia?" I ask, walking over to one of the tables. I pour myself a glass of ice cold water.

"My best friend," he replied neutrally. "My only friend."

"That's sad." I start sipping the water from the glass. "I can be your second friend, then."

He raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"We can be friends," I say again. "Or just allies. Either way works for me."

"Well, sure. If you put it that way. We can be… allies." He gets a cookie from the same table. "Not friends yet because I don't want a friend to die."

I nodded in understanding. We said nothing more and went to our respective rooms.

_You trust me, I'll trust you._


	9. District 7: Worth and Merkava

**.:.:Jane Worth, 18:.:.**

"Good morning," I mutter, taking a seat at the dining table. My siblings greet me with waves and hellos.

"Good morning, Jane," says my mother. Her voice is strained and tired, more than usual. It was probably her job, my father or the entire family that was frustrating her. Still, even in her bad mood, she doesn't forget her manners. She is eating a plate of pancakes our cook, Betsy, has prepared for us.

Betsy places a plate of pancakes in front of me as I sit down. "Thank you, Betsy," I say and she gives me a weary smile. Betsy is fairly old, in her late fifties or early sixties, with grey hair always in a bun, thin lips and comforting brown eyes.

She leaves. I eat my breakfast in silence as my brothers and sisters yell at each other from across the table. The only ones who aren't yelling are Jessica and Roland, my older siblings. I'm jealous of them because they don't have to suffer the reapings. I still have one more year until I'm free and I'm still terrified. I would have no chance of winning whatsoever.

I make small talk with Rona, my younger sister. It's only her third reaping. She's shaking and her eyes are filled with worry – not for herself, but mostly for the little ones like Jason and Beatrice. They're twelve and thirteen and are nearly as hopeless as me. But not as hopeless – I'm the most hopeless out of everyone in the family. Out of everyone in the district, maybe. Probably, since every other girl my age is at least strong enough to chop down a tree. I can barely lift an axe.

When I'm finished, I stand up and walk away from the dining room. I go up two flights of stairs until I reach my bedroom, my own personal space where nobody can bother me. I take a bath. It lets me clear my head of thoughts.

I change into a simple black dress my mother made for me. I twirl in it a few times in front of my full length mirror. I'm not very pretty. There's a highly unlikely chance that I'll get sponsors in the arena unless I get the Capitol to give me a few facial alterations. And if they can do something about my height.

What am I thinking? I'm not getting reaped. There should be a fairly high chance for me since my name is in there quite a lot of times, but there are plenty of other eighteen-year-olds who have their names put in the glass bowl the same amount of times. There's also the other kids, the twelve-year-olds, the fourteen-year-olds, the seventeen-year-olds… I shouldn't be worrying too much.

I brush my blonde pixie cut until it's perfect. I apply smallest bits of makeup before slipping on a pair of black mary janes and walking out the door. Most of my siblings are in their rooms getting ready, but Jessica and Roland are on the couches in the living room staring at the television. Some program with Dimitri Haaderway as the host was playing.

They completely ignore me as I leave the house. I wait at the sidewalk until Rona comes out. I promised her I would walk with her to my final reaping. She smiles at me. She's wearing a light blue blouse with black pleated skirt and small black heels. She looks so much more mature than me. She's even taller than me and much prettier. Her hair is blonde as well, but it's wavy and reaches her mid back. It's braided today. Her eyes are bright blue compared to my icy ones.

However, despite how much prettier she is from me, I don't feel jealous. I feel relief. Then I get less attention for myself when I'm around.

**.:.:Tasi Merkava, 16:.:.**

"_Your mother died because of you. You've been nothing but a burden to me. I never loved you. You were a waste of time. If you were never born, your mother would still be alive. We'd be happy, just the two of us, and have kids that aren't you. Everything's _your_ fault, Tasi. Get out of my sight."_

My hand runs through the mane of dark curls on my head. I'm thinking too much, way too much. It's the reaping and you aren't supposed to be thinking unless it's about the chance of almost certain death that would be coming up soon. There's no reason to think about anything other than that.

Hope is sleeping soundly at the end of my bed. My waking up didn't seem to disturb her.

I chuckle. She looks so innocent when she's asleep compared to when she's up and alive. I stroke her soft fur but she doesn't even stir.

I slip out of the blankets and make my way out of the room, my right leg limping behind me. It has a limp from an accident during work. I was twelve at the time. A tree fell on my right knee, tearing all the ligaments and breaking the bones in my leg. I've been walking with a limp ever since.

After a quick shower, I change into simple clothes. They're simple, but at least they're not my work clothes. They're probably good enough for the reaping.

When I'm dressed, I come out of the bathroom to see Hope lying on the couch, waiting for me. Her tail is wagging and her tongue is hanging out of her mouth. She's waiting for breakfast.

I ruffle the fur on the top of her head and walk to the kitchen. I find some beef from the fridge and place it in Hope's wooden dog bowl. She sticks her head in it and starts eating it. I pat her fur.

I bite on a piece of toast while watching her. Haloti left for work early today. I doubt he would be able to make it to the reaping, but I don't really mind. I know he hates watching the children get reaped. It's better for him not to watch.

I brush off some invisible dust from my trousers.

"Come on, Hope, let's go take a walk."

The sun isn't really up yet. Haloti must have left at around four in the morning. Hope trails behind me as I walk into the forest. It's actually one of the few forests left in District Seven that aren't chopped down.

I pick up a random stick from the forest floor and throw it somewhere. "Fetch, Hope!"

With her tongue sticking out, she races towards the area where the stick was thrown. She comes back less than a minute later with the stick in her mouth.

"Good girl," I say.

I throw the stick again. She chases it once more, and when she's out looking for it, I can't help thinking that this could be the last time I'd ever play with Hope.

**.:.:Jane Worth, 18:.:.**

It's your last year, Jane. Calm down. You will not get reaped. After this, you'll go back home. In a few days you'll graduate. You'll pack your things and leave the house to find a life of your own.

Freedom. It's a wonderful thing. At least by the way my mother puts it. She wants me to leave the house when I graduate from high school and find a job to make myself useful. I don't get it. My older siblings get to stay at the house. But that's probably because they're going to university. I won't be accepted to any university because I'm so uneducated.

"Did you make any friends?" I ask Rona as the bustle of the town square comes into view.

"I guess…" she mutters. "Did you?"

I shook my head. She nods in understanding. The rest of the walk to the square is silent until a crowd is formed around us and we're forced to hold onto each other's hands to not lose one another. We register at the counter and I tell Rona to be careful.

"I will," she says and goes off to the fifteen-year-olds' section.

Next to the other eighteen-year-olds, I look like a baby. They're all so grown up and so tall and so much _prettier_. I'm just plain little Jane who looks like she's a twelve-year-old pretending to be older so she won't have to experience the reaping again.

A high-pitched screech can be heard from the speakers and everyone covers their ears. "My, my, what a lovely day for the reaping!"

I inwardly barf at the sound of our escort, Accerro's voice. I look at the stage to see a tall, lanky, skinny man with long arms and legs standing behind the microphone. "It is an honour to be here. My name is Accerro Maldre and I am District Seven's escort! Welcome to the 100th Annual Hunger Games, also known as the fourth Quarter Quell!"

He pauses for some applause and is met by two or three hands clapping. He clears his throat. "I guess people are caught in the suspense I'm building. Silly me! Let's just get to it, shall we?"

He saunters over to the glass bowl to the right. "Ladies first!'

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Exhale. Wait, you forgot to inhale. Inhale now. Exhale. Good.

A small, folded piece of paper is between in fingertips when he pulls the name out. He opens the paper and reads out the name, loud and clear.

"Jane Worth!"

Have you ever felt like you completely forget how to breathe, and when you try to your lungs won't respond? You try to move a part of your body, anything, but nothing happens. Your air supply runs out and you feel dizzy. You feel like collapsing.

Although it wasn't the first time it happened to me, I felt completely alien to the feeling and didn't know what to do. I just tried to breathe again.

**.:.:Tasi Merkava, 16:.:.**

The girl has short blonde hair. She's dragged onstage by a group of peacekeepers. She doesn't fight back, but she is sobbing a lot. Her face is stained with tears. Her eyes are starting to become red.

I listen to the conversation between her and Accerro. He's trying to comfort her.

"Sweetie, it's okay," he says. "Don't cry, darling."

She doesn't say anything. She just kept on crying and buries her face in her hands.

"She needs some time. Take her to the crying room." She looks up and stares at Accerro as if to say _thank you_. He nods and she is taken away into the Justice Building.

"Now for the boys!" His smile is plastered back onto his face and he goes over to the boy's names. I take a deep breath.

We wait. All of us do. It isn't like Accerro to keep us in suspense. I lift my head, which was staring at my shoes a while ago. He seems to be trying to read the paper.

"Ta-Tasi… Merkava!"

I don't understand. My name isn't that hard to pronounce…

Wait. I've been reaped. I've just been reaped for the Hunger Games.

After that moment, everything passes in a blur. I walk slowly onto the stage. Accerro says something. A few people clap. I'm put in the crying room. I sit on a chair and wait for something to happen. Haloti comes in and gives me a hug. He says good luck. He's crying. I cry a bit too.

The only time I snap out of the trance I was in was when I realized I might not see Hope or Haloti again.

I make a vow to myself – I will win for them. For Haloti. For Hope. For us. It will be my sole vow until the moment I die, whether or not it be in the arena. If I don't win…

Then I've let them down. And none of us want that to happen.

**.:.:Jane Worth, 18:.:.**

I am tempted to change my last name to 'Worthless'. Then I would be Jane Worthless. I am exactly that. Worthless.

Only Rona and my older siblings comes to visit me. Rona sits next to me and lets me cry into her shoulder. Jessica pats my back and mutters words like, "It'll be okay," or "You'll be fine, Jane."

I won't be fine. I'm going to the Hunger Games and I am going to die. I won't win. There's no chance I will. I'm weak and stupid. Nobody will want to team up with me. I have absolutely no chance. Zero. Zip. Nada.

Rona clings onto me. She's crying as well. "I'm sorry, Jane," she whispers. "I wanted to volunteer for you but I was too late."

I suddenly pull her away and grip her by her shoulders. "How dare you say that! You should never, ever even think about volunteering, do you hear me? This family can't afford to lose another member after me, okay? Promise me you will never, ever volunteer for your siblings until you are certain you're strong enough."

She stares at me in confusion. "How am I going to be strong enough?"

"Jessica, Roland, I want you guys to take all of our siblings out to the woods every day." Roland, who was sitting on a chair nearby, looks up along with Jessica. "Take them for jogs. Roland, teach the older ones how to use an axe. Jessica, you're a healer, right?" She nods. "I want you to teach them all you know about plants and medicine. Teach them what and what not to eat. Which plants can be used as medicine. Understand?"

They nodded at the same time.

It was a strange feeling to have my older siblings do what I told them to. I felt like I was in charge for once, and it was working. But the feeling didn't last for long. A peacekeeper ushers them out.

I sit there, wondering how the whole training might work out for them. Would it help them? Will it confuse them? All I know is that it could be their last hope. They need to start soon because who knows, there's always a possibility that one of them is reaped next year.

Another peacekeeper brings me to the train. Tasi, the boy for my district who was reaped, is sitting on a couch, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands clasped together. He is in deep thought.

I decide not to disturb him, but just as I was about to walk away, he lifts his head and his brown eyes catch my blue ones.

"You're Jane," he says.

"Yes. Jane. Just plain Jane. You're Tasi Merkava."

He nods. "I'm sorry. I know you have a large family. You've lost a lot."

I smile. "Not really. But even if I lost a lot, they learnt a lot. They learnt that they shouldn't take their chances. My older siblings promised me they'll try their best to prepare my little brothers and sisters for the Games."

"That's a great idea." There's an awkward silence as I take a seat on another couch.

"Um… are we going to be, like, partners? Or do you want to fly solo here?" I fidget with my thumbs and the hem of my dress.

"I'd love to be partners," he says, smiling at me. I smile back.

"I think we could be good friends."


	10. District 8: Rodriguez and Hensworth

**.:.:Mimee Rodriguez, 15:.:.**

I try to stay away from trouble most of the time. I honestly do. It's just that trouble loves finding its way into my life.

One of the forms of trouble in my life is Calle Margison. She's the goody-two-shoes of my class who just loves provoking me. She has her own little group of girls who follow her around everywhere and agree to everything she says.

I was walking down the corridor with my head bowing down to avoid any unnecessary attention. I had to carry my books in my hands since the orphanage wouldn't buy me a backpack. Calle was in the middle of the corridor for some reason. It was no surprise that I bumped into her. It was practically her fault.

She shrieked. I didn't see the point; they were just books, not rats or snakes or anything

"I'm sorry!" I said quickly anyway. You never want to mess with Calle.

She just glared at me and rolled her eyes. With her posse following behind her, she walked away, but I heard her something as she passed me.

"Excuse me?" I might have sounded a tad bit rude, but what do you expect when someone says something about you while you're standing right there?

"I said," she emphasized the last word. "The world is better off without thieves like your family. You should've died as well."

I stared at her, wide-eyed. A few other kids heard and were staring as well. Then I lost it.

I punched her in the face.

The aftermath wasn't pretty – she had a bloody nose and a bruise just under her eye. But it was a masterpiece to me.

"I wish I did too, darling," I hissed.

They told on me, obviously. I went to the principal's office. I refused to say anything about her insulting my family, so she gave me the punishment. I was suspended for three days, in other words, until the day after the reaping.

I wish it was longer. I absolutely despise my school and everyone in it. It's full of injustice. The teachers have favourites and least favourites. The bullies provoke on the weaker ones' sensitive sides to get them in trouble. Injustice, I say.

At least, if I get reaped, I won't ever have to go to school ever again, I muse. Of course I don't want to be chosen for the Hunger Games. They're horrible. All of the orphans gather in a large room in the building where there's a large TV all of us watch it from. We don't have to if we don't want to, fortunately, but I've watched it a few times. I remember in my first Hunger Games, a tribute killed off all the other tributes by chopping their bodies into three parts – the head, the torso and the legs. I shiver at the memory.

I spend my time alone in my room, which I share with seven other girls, getting ready. There isn't any hot water in the bathroom but it's still refreshing. I use one of the big girls' shampoos to wash my hair. It smells of strawberries. I change into a green dress that was my sister's when she was nine…

It's hard to hold back a tear. My family were all whipped to death for stealing food. My father was caught stealing bread from the baker, my mother was accused of stealing money from someone and my sister was blamed for four missing apples. What hurts most is the fact that they stole all those for me. Most of the food was given to me since I was the youngest. And now, because of me, they're dead. They died horrible, painful deaths.

The dress fits me perfectly despite it being for a nine-year-old. I'm very small for my age. I brush my still wet hair and put it into its usual two braids.

When I'm done, I go to the cafeteria to eat lunch. It's a rather spacious cafeteria, with several tables, but it's very bleak with grey walls and white tables and chairs. The cook gives me a plate with a small baloney sandwich, a small cheese sandwich and a tomato and lettuce sandwich. I nibble on the bits of lettuce but leave the tomatoes and the bread. I eat the cheese and baloney sandwich.

I am alone the whole time. All of the kids are at school right now and wouldn't be here in half an hour to get ready for the reaping, which in our district starts in the afternoon after school. The cook already went through the door to go back to the kitchen. When I'm finished, I just sit there for a while enjoying my time alone. I fiddle with one of my braids.

A kid comes in. Another kid follows. I stand up and walk out of the cafeteria. I hate company, especially when they're other kids from the orphanage.

I leave the building alone and walk to the town square. Alone.

**.:.:Kaiden Hensworth, 15:.:.**

"Kaiden, get up!"

My eyes shoot open. "Wha- Garret? Where am I?"

"You fell asleep in the clearing," he says.

I sit up. I am definitely in the clearing. I came here in the morning alone when Garret was asleep. The sun wasn't fully up, and the grass was soft and felt so comfortable… I am under my favourite tree. It looks exactly like it did when I first came here.

"What time is it?" I ask Garret.

"Nearly twelve! The reaping starts in less than half an hour!"

I practically leapt onto my feet. We made a mad dash for our house. The clearing was sort of on the outskirts of the district, but it was close to our house so we got there in less than ten minutes. Garret is already dressed in a blue button-up shirt, which was once mine, and brown trousers. I dig through my dresser to find some decent clothes to wear for the reaping.

"Kaiden?"

My mother is at the door, holding a hanger with a white collared shirt and black trousers. I smile at her. "Thanks so much."

She smiles back and hands them to me before leaving me to change. I put the clothes on and check myself in the mirror.

My black hair reaches my shoulders. I grab a come and try to tame it down. I throw the comb… somewhere and run out of my room to the front door. Garret is waiting with my mother at the pavement.

"Hurry up! We have fifteen minutes left!" my mother says and we all run to the town square.

We laugh together. I don't know why, but still, it felt good to be able to laugh again. We were all running late, me and Garret for the reaping and my mother for her afternoon job at the dressmaker's. Mother's holding Garrets hand and I'm running a bit ahead of them, urging them to hurry up. They laugh even more and try to chase after me. I'm too fast for them.

All of us are panting heavily once we reach the square. Everybody's already lined up and the mayor is making his speech. We check in and Mother gives us each a peck on the forehead before going to where the adults are watching their children. Garret waves me goodbye before going to where the other twelve-year-olds are. I breathe out a puff of air as I arrive at my line. Thankfully nobody notices. I look around and see Travis grinning and shaking his head at me from the sixteen-year-olds. I roll my eyes and smile as well.

"…and now, Gabriella," the mayor says, pointing his hand to a lady with an orange wig and an orange and yellow dress.

She jumps up and takes quick steps towards the microphone in those unbelievably high heels of hers. "Well, well, well! Look at all of you, dressed up and looking nice for the reaping! Welcome to the 100th Annual Hunger Games, or as I call it, the fourth Quarter Quell!"

I nearly gag at the happiness bursting from her. She's actually _happy_ that we're all being sent to our nearly certain deaths.

"So, as tradition goes, we shall chose the female tribute's name first." Gabriella goes over to the girl's glass bowl and wastes no time to grab a name. "Mimee Rodriguez!"

I look around to see who the poor girl is. Other people are looking for her too. I suppose nobody knows her.

A small, skinny girl with her bright red hair tied into two braids steps out of the fifteen-year-old girls' rows. Her eyes are wide in surprise and she's breathing shakily. Her tiny feet lead her to the stage and she stands next to Gabriella. She holds her chin up high and I see tears lining the bottom of her green orbs.

"See you soon, Mom."

She is hushed away by Gabriella.

"Now for the male tribute!" Step, step, step, grab, open, read.

"Our male tribute is Kaiden Hensworth!"

My eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

I think I've been reaped.

**.:.:Mimee Rodriguez, 15:.:.**

The boy has shaggy black hair and intimidating brown eyes. His eyebrows are knitted in deep thought as he goes up the steps and to Gabriella's side. He looks at me and I realize I was staring. My eyes quickly dart away and I wipe a tear away.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Gabriella puts a hand on my and the boy, Kaiden's back, pushing us forward. "Your tributes for the 100th Hunger Games!"

Some idiots clap from the crowd, but the applause is next to nothing. A peacekeeper pulls us away and drags us into the Justice Building where we're urged into separate rooms. Crying rooms.

I sit down on a couch, my hands perching on my knees. Finally, I let the tears out.

The leave a trail down my cheeks. I sob. I mourn for my family. I mourn for my dead family who will not come and visit me as I leave for my certain doom.

I walk over to a mirror on the wall. My eyes are a bit puffy. I pour some water from a water bottle on the table and try to make the redness less visible. It works, slightly. I untie my braids and let my hair free. I run my fingers through it. It's nice and wavy now. I feel pretty when my hair is down but people make fun of my red hair when it's untied. So putting it in braids makes it less noticeable.

"We're going on the train now," the gruff voice of a peacekeeper says.

I sigh and follow him. I hope my district partner is nice enough to let me ally with him.

**.:.:Kaiden Hensworth, 15:.:.**

"Mom, Garret, please stop crying…"

Garret grips onto my shirt tighter. "We don't wa-want you to g-go," he stutters, choking on his own sobs.

"No-one wants their family to go into the Hunger Games," I say.

Mother is on my left, hugging me and crying into my shoulder. Garret is clinging onto me as if his life depended on it and is crying into my white shirt. It didn't matter; I was never going to wear this shirt again anyway.

"It's my fault," Mother sobs. "If I worked harder and had a better job, you wouldn't have had to take the tesserae, and you wouldn't get picked…"

I shush her before she can say anything else. A small droplet is forming in my left eye.

"I'll be fine," I whisper. "I'll… I'll win for you guys. I _will_ win and come home to you. We'll live in the Victor's Village and we'll never go hungry. Mom, you wouldn't have to work so hard anymore. We'll have a great life, the three of us…"

"Time's up," a peacekeeper says. "Someone else has come to visit you."

Mother touches my cheek once more before taking Garret by the hand and pulling them away. Garret gives me one more blue-eyes stare before leaving the room. Travis comes in.

He awkwardly walks over to me and gives me a hug. He pulls away and puts something in my hand.

"I can't stay for long, but my sister wanted me to give you this. For your token." He gave me a small black stone with a carving of a wolf on it. "Good luck. I'm betting on you."

I smile and nod before he walks away and I'm left alone in the crying room. The tear that had formed earlier finally streams down my face but I wipe it away.

The same peacekeeper that took Garret and Mother away comes back and tells me I need to board the train. I follow him and soon, I'm a vehicle that feels like the lap of luxury.

My district partner is sitting in a corner by herself, her eyes closed, her hair free from its previous two braids. Mimee.

She suddenly opens her eyes and stares at me.

"I need to tell you something," she says, sitting up properly. "In the arena, I'm probably going to die early. If I don't, then I'll just probably be a burden to you. So you don't have to team up with me if you don't want to."

I shake my head. "It's fine. If you want to be my ally, it's fine."

She smiles appreciatively. I nod and walk away, going into a room which I supposed was mine.

"I'll see you at dinner, Mimee Rodriguez."

**That was a really quick update o.O. But I enjoyed writing this chapter and so… yeah. I hope you guys liked it!**

**Silly old me forgot to put in the question for last time as well. So here are the sponsor questions for this chapter and the last chapter:**

**Which district was the boy that set up the land mines around the Career's supplies from?**

**Who kills Wiress in the 75****th**** Hunger Games?**

**That is all. I'll see you in the next chapter! Toodleoo!**

**~NISA~ **


	11. District 9: Ronua and Withers

**.:.:Laura Ronua, 13:.:.**

I twirl in my pink ballerina tutu. The frilly skirt shakes a bit. I giggle in front of the mirror. I love this dress so much!

I clap my hands together. Yay! I finally get to wear this dress in public! Mom bought this for me on my birthday, which was only a few weeks ago, but I never wore it to school because that would be plain silly. I wouldn't wear it out of school either; I saved it for a special day! The reaping, whatever that is. It sounds really sad and scary, but a girl wearing a bright pink tutu might cheer them up!

I giggle one last time before skipping over to my white and pink dressing table. I brush my brown hair and tie them into pigtails, securing them with ribbons matching my tutu. I put on my shoes before skipping downstairs, where Mom is waiting for me.

She smiles at me, but there's a small hint of sadness. I tilt my head in confusion.

"Mommy, why do you look sort of sad?"

She sighs before shaking her head. "No sweetie, I'm not sad. Just really tired. Work is hectic."

"Aw." I walk over to her and give her a big hug. "Can I make breakfast for you, Mommy? You don't seem well enough to make your own."

She laughs and gives me a peck on the cheek. "Sure, darling. That would be wonderful."

I give her a big grin before going to the large, spacious kitchen. It's very clean. We have a maid who comes in every day to clean our house since Mom is usually too busy and I… I don't know how to clean.

I put two pieces of wholemeal bread into the toaster and start boiling water for some tea. I pour myself a glass of milk and drink it. The toast pops out and I spread cream cheese on it. The kettle squeals and I put a teabag into it. I give the toast to Mom before going back to pour the tea.

We finish breakfast like we always do. I ask Mom questions about work, she replies to all of them, I ask her if we'll be able to go out together some time and she might say yes. She said yes this time. She said that we can go to the park together some time and have a picnic. I love picnics! I hug her before taking the plate and cups into the kitchen sink. We leave the house together.

It's a lovely day. The sky is bright and blue and a few clouds laze by. The sun isn't too hot; just the right temperature. We live in the slightly more upper class part of the district. The houses are made of bricks and are painted either light blue, light yellow or light pink. Our house is light pink and I love it. Every house in the neighbourhood has a white door with the house number painted on them. Each house has a front garden, with soft green beds of grass and flowerpots and white fences. I love this neighbourhood.

A boy with bright red hair slams the door behind him, two houses away from ours. I wince. Mom pats me on the shoulder.

Bruce Withers was the biggest bully in District Nine. He treats everyone like they're nothing. Nobody actually likes him, though a few wannabes nearly as bad as him sometimes follow him around and agree with everything he says just so that they might get his approval. Why would they want approval from such a jerk? If I were them, I wouldn't care what he thought about me and stay away from him. Well, I do already, but if only they would do the same…

Bruce suddenly looks at me. My eyes widen. He looks just as scary as I've ever imagined him to be. Imagine, because I never would have the guts to actually look at him. That is pure suicide and I am doing it right now.

I whip my head back so fast that I could've gotten a whiplash. Mom looks worriedly at me but I just smile at her and grip her hand tighter. We always hold hands when we're leaving the house together. I think it's because she's too scared I might run away.

We arrive at the reaping. This is the third time I've been here, I think. Once for my first reaping and once for the victory tour. People stare at me and raise an eyebrow when they see my tutu. I just smile at them. Sometimes they smile back. Who knows, I might just cheer up someone's entire day and they might feel the slightest bit better.

"Okay, sweetie, you have to go alone now," Mom says. I look up at her.

"Why can't you come with me?" I plead.

Mom shakes her head. "The peacekeepers won't allow me. But you're a big girl, right?"

"Right."

"So you can go in line on your own, right?"

"Right."

She gives me one last weak smile and kisses my forehead. "Go register now. I have to go with the other parents."

I nod. I give her a wave before going to the registration area.

**.:.:Bruce Withers, 16:.:.**

I scowl as I enter the sixteen-year-olds' line. Everyone is staying as further away from me as they can. Usually I wouldn't mind, but this is reaping day. Everybody is scared. Even me. I don't want to get reaped – the Hunger Games is too bloody and gruesome, even for me. It's even worse because I know they're real.

But of course, I am Bruce Withers. Like I'll ever admit I'm scared. I'll just turn it into anger and people won't laugh at me. I don't know anyone who wouldn't laugh at me, even those weird guys who follow me around, probably wanting to be like me. Ha, I don't think so.

I cross my arms over my white shirt. Our district escort was taking forever to come on stage.

My eyes travel around the square. Most of the kids here work in the fields so I don't know them. There are a few I know from my neighbourhood but they're all weak, scrawny twelve or thirteen-year-olds not suited for the games.

I wouldn't really mind if I was reaped. This year's the Quarter Quell where we can win along with our district partner. As long as my district partner is strong or at the least even the slightest bit useful, that would be enough. Besides, if I die, my parents won't really care because they have each other and can have more children that actually _like_ them.

So I decide that if my district partner is strong, I will volunteer.

"Good morning, boys and girls of District Nine!"

I jump at the sound of his voice along with other people. That was our escort, Chienne Palleed. He's a short, stocky man who wears brightly coloured suits, and this year he's wearing neon yellow and orange. Also, he always wears this weird collar thing on his neck that matches his clothes.

"Welcome to the reaping of the 100th Hunger Games! My name is Chienne Palleed and I am your escort!"

I couldn't help but snicker at his Capitol accent. He sounds so ridiculous.

"Anyhow, I don't want to stall you children, so I will choose a name immediately. Ladies first!"

Chienne walks like a woman, I note as he makes his way to the girls' glass bowl.

I take a deep breath and let it out. _Make it someone strong._

He pulls out a piece of paper and reads out the name on it. "Laura Ronua!"

I groan in frustration. Laura Ronua is this annoying girl from my neighbourhood. I've never talked to her, but she seems annoying. She's much too happy for her own good. I think she has ADHD or something. I look for her in the crowd and she's just standing there, looking confused. Everybody is staring at her.

Peacekeepers come over to her and drag her away from her line. She is put onstage, where Chienne smiles at her before looking back at the crowd. Her eyes dart around the square and her eyebrows knit together. She has no idea what is going on. I nearly laugh.

But anyway, now I won't volunteer. No way am I partnering up with her. She's much too small. She won't do.

Our escort goes over to the boys' names. He grins at us before picking a name. He opens it up and reads the name.

"Bruce Withers!"

I frown. That wasn't supposed to happen. That… that wasn't supposed to happen at all. I don't want to go into the Hunger Games with the weakling over there. Laura stares at me for a bit and then looks at the peacekeeper coming towards me.

I look around the area. People are sighing. Some are smiling. Some are even laughing. They're actually _glad_ that I'm going. They're _glad_! Those jerks! Don't they know I'm human too? They're _glad_ I'm going into the Hunger Games! How could they?

I struggle in the peacekeeper's grip. I try to break free. I want to punch everyone I see. Because everyone I see is glad that I was reaped. I try to punch the peacekeeper's face. He twists my arm just in time. Another peacekeeper comes over and drags me away from the crowd. They drag me into the justice building and throw me in the crying room. They shut the door and lock it.

I try to open it but it won't move. I try breaking the door but it doesn't budge.

I have just been reaped for the Hunger Games and no-one is going to miss me.

**.:.:Laura Ronua, 13:.:.**

"It's a fight to the death."

That set me off. I started crying and screaming. They had to drag my mother away from me. They held me down and won't let me out for some time. I keep screaming and yelling. Finally, something is injected into my arm. My world goes black.

I wake up in a moving vehicle. The train. I think it was the peacekeepers who injected that stuff into my arm. It was some sort of substance that would make me fall asleep. But the drugs have a side effect – I have a horrible headache.

I rub my temples. I'm lying on a soft bed but I don't care where I am. The headache is too painful to let me notice anything going around me. Whenever I had a headache back home, Mom would get me a glass of warm milk that's mixed with honey to make me feel better. I don't really like milk but the honey makes it taste much better. But I don't want milk right now. I just want some water. My throat feels dry as well.

I walk out of the room I was in. I step into a narrow corridor that leads to some living area. A jug of water and a few glasses lie on a table. I fill a glass and drink it all. It makes me feel slightly better.

My head snaps up when I hear footsteps coming from the corridor. Bruce Withers comes out and glares at me. I grip my glass tighter. The last person I want to see right now is Bruce.

Fortunately, he doesn't say anything. He disappears to where I supposed was the dining room. Speaking of which, I'm hungry. But I don't want to eat with Bruce. A servant comes in and stops to look at me.

"Um, can I have something to eat? I don't want to eat in the dining room."

The servant blinks. Then, she nods and walks away. She didn't speak, so I suppose she was one of those servants who had their tongues cut off. What were they called again? Avoxes. Right, they were called Avoxes.

I sit down on a sofa and put the glass down. _Fight to the death_. I'm… I'm going to die. I'll never see Mom again.

But I have to stay strong. It's for Mom.

I fall into a pointless daydream on what Mom might be doing. I'm going to really miss her.

**Finally got those down! Anyhow, I can't wait to write the last few reapings because I've got some really interesting characters for you guys :D I'll give you guys a question to finish off:**

**What was your favourite reaping so far?**

**It doesn't really matter what you pick. I'll give points to everyone who answers anyway. Sayonara!**

**~NISA~**


	12. District 10: Sorenson and Cappult

**.:.:Kenza Sorenson, 17:.:.**

"Belle, I made breakfast for you," I whisper as I enter the room.

Belle is lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She looks at me and her eyes brightened.

"Kenza," she says, smiling. Then her eyebrows knit together and her smile disappears. "Kenza. Who is Kenza?"

"I'm Kenza," I say. I try my best to keep on a smile. "I'm Kenza, your big sister."

Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh! Kenza! I remember my big sister, of course. Silly me."

I gently lay the tray of food on her empty bedside table. "Do you want me to feed you?"

"No thank you, Kenza," she says, sitting up slowly. "You've done too much for me already."

Nodding, I hand her a glass of water and she slowly sips from it. I stand up and make my way out of her bedroom.

"Goodbye, Kenza," I hear Belle say as I shut the door.

I breathe in, letting a small tear run down my cheek. It's been nearly two months since Belle was diagnosed with the strange disease. The healers said that it would paralyze both her legs and maybe even her arms. If it reaches her lungs and heart, she would definitely die. It also affected her brain a bit, but not seriously. She has something similar to Alzheimer's and forgets the names of people and places a lot. When she does forget someone or something, it just takes away a little piece of my heart because it reminds me that she would die soon if they don't find a cure.

"Kenza?"

I open my eyes. Luke, my youngest brother, is in his sleeping clothes and is looking at me with pity.

"Did she forget you again?" he almost whispers. He knows how much I hate it when she does forget me.

I silently nod. "She remembered when I told her, though. So it… it should be fine for now."

Luke gives me a sad smile before coming over and hugging me. He's really sweet and probably one of the few people I can still turn to, even if he is six years younger than me.

"Let's go get some breakfast," I say, and we go into the small, crowded kitchen.

It's a bit messy since I was just here cooking. Luke takes a seat at the dining table and I hand him a plate of eggs. We eat together in silence until Samuel and Spencer, the twins, come into the kitchen.

"Where's Jack?" Samuel asks as Spencer sleepily takes a seat next to me.

"Still asleep," Luke says. He shares a room with Jack, the second oldest in the family.

He nods and resumes taking a plate of eggs. Spencer takes some as well.

Jack wakes up a while later and by then, I'm washing mine and Luke's plates. I go into my bedroom to change. I don't take a shower since I already did yesterday. We hated wasting water.

My reaping clothes are a simple white dress with a belt and black shoes. They look rather nice on me, though I could care less. I don't know why people dressed their best on the day they could be sent to their death sentence. Still, I like following traditions even if they don't make sense. When I come out everyone but Luke is already dressed. Luke is only eleven and isn't old enough to go to the reaping. Instead, on reaping days, he stays to take care of Belle.

"Come on," I say, ushering them out the door. Turning around, my eyes lock with Luke's.

"Take care of her," I say.

I mean it in more than one way.

**.:.:Ian Cappult, 18:.:.**

"Ian, can you braid my hair for me?"

My eyes travel from my bowl of cereal to my niece, Lily. She's dressed in a daffodil-yellow dress and white shoes, but her hair is still wet from the shower she just took.

I laugh. "Of course. I need a hairbrush and hairbands."

Grinning, she runs off to her room to get what we needed. Lily is the only family member I have. My parents and my sister, Lily's mother, died a while back and I've been taking care of her. I feel sorry for her sometimes, since she never knew her parents but I at least knew mine. She's always happy and cheery though, even with that past. She's always been optimistic like that.

She comes back with the hairbrush and hairbands and hands them to me. I make her sit on my lap and start brushing her hair out. It's really thick and straggly, but I gently untangle the knots. I separate her hair into two parts and start braiding them. I remember the time when I didn't know how to braid hair and Lily forced me to learn how to. It was strange, having her showing me this and that but at the same time it was funny. Those are the few memories I treasure and want to keep forever.

"Done," I say as I set the last braid onto her shoulder. She turns around and gives me a hug.

"Thank you," she says. She looks up at my head. "I wish I could braid your hair."

I laugh and she joins me. Giving her a peck on her forehead, I set her down onto the floor and we make our way out of the living room. She opens the door and starts walking ahead of me on the path. Our house is in the poorer part of the district but it isn't that run-down, though it's made of wood like most of the other houses. I walk a bit further ahead and take Lily's hand. She looks up at me and smiles.

"You said this is the last day that we have to go to the reaping, right?" To my surprise, Lily understood the concept of the Games without me having to explain it to her. She's incredibly smart for her age.

"Yeah," I say, and a warm feeling shoots up from inside of me. My last reaping. I don't have to go to that horrible place after this, and it would all be over by the end of this morning.

Unless I get reaped.

But there's hardly any chance that I would get picked. There are plenty of other people who could get reaped and some of them have the same chance as me. I've taken the tesserae, and that's only for me and Lily. Other eighteen-year-olds have even larger families and have to take the tesserae for them. So it can't be bad. You won't get picked, Ian. You're practically safe. You'll go home once it's all over and lead a normal life with Lily.

The town hall is as drab and dreary as ever. All the children are dragging themselves into the lines they're supposed to go to. I go over to the area where the kids' friends and family who can't participate in the games wait and drop Lily off there. She gives me a hug.

"Good luck," she says quietly and gives me a small smile. "I know you're coming back home sooner or later."

The line I stand in is just about the same as it always has been. I search the area and my eyes land on Mattie, my best friend. She smiles at me and waves before going back in line. She looks pretty as ever. I sigh. Mattie was the only other person I truly care for and I might just like her a little more than I'm supposed to.

I notice that the mayor has just started his speech and look back at the stage. Everyone else does as well and it's suddenly quiet in the town square. The mayor's words drag on and on until he finally goes offstage and Pria Vanlett, our escort, strides onstage in those extremely high heels of hers. I'm surprised heels that high are even legal.

"It is the 100th Hunger Games, children of District 10," she says and smiles a sickly sweet smile. Pria is known for scaring people at the reapings a little too much. "You know how it goes. I hope you're all ready for it."

A shiver runs down my spine as she makes her way quickly to the glass bowl that contains the girls' names. Her small hand whisks into it and pulls out a piece of paper.

_Please don't be Mattie._

"Kenza Sorenson!"

**.:.:Kenza Sorenson, 17:.:.**

My eyes widen and the whole world stops. I have just been reaped. I have just been chosen to participate in the Hunger Games. No, no, no. That's not supposed to happen! What will happen to Belle and Luke and Spencer and… and…

Wait. I… I think I can do this. I might be able to. I'm strong enough, probably. I'm strong enough to win. If my partner is strong enough, I might be able to win. I _can_ win and come back to District 10 in one piece, alive. I can.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the line and walk onto the stage where Pria Vanlett is waiting for me with a smile plastered on her face. I stand a few feet away from her and face the audience.

_I can do this._

She walks over to the glass bowl holding the boys' names which is opposite to the side I'm standing in. Her long fingernails pick up a piece of clean, white paper and she reads out the name on it.

"Ian Cappult!"

A minute passes and an eighteen-year-old boy steps out of the crowd. He makes his way to the stage in the same manner I did. His face is full of worry but it's not about him. The worry is about someone from his family, probably.

"Shake hands, you two. You're going to know each other in the arena."

I put on a brave face. _First impressions last. _I do as I'm told. Ian's hand is strong. I nod at him confidently and he nods back. He trusts me, I think.

We are led into the Justice Building and into our separate crying rooms. I sit down on a chair. Jack and the twins will probably come, but Luke and Belle are probably still at home, not knowing about what happened. I can't bear to think how it would feel for Belle if she finds out that I might not come back.

As I predicted, Jack, Spencer and Samuel come in. The twins wrap their hands around me. I can see that Spencer's eyes are red, while Samuel is almost in tears. Jack is wiping a few droplets of water falling from his eyes, trying to look brave and strong. He's going to be the guardian of his siblings from now on, whether temporarily or permanently.

"Listen," I whisper. "I want you guys to be strong. Do whatever you can to protect each other. Make sure Luke is always at home to take care of Belle. And… as for Belle…"

I suck in a deep breath as Jack sits down next to me.

"Keep her hopes up. She'll be stronger if she knows I'm coming back. Lie if you have to. Just do anything you can to make sure she's happy for as long as she's alive."

Jack nods and takes my hand. He puts a round piece of wood in it. A hummingbird is carved into the front. "Belle made it for you."

We spend the last minute in silence until a peacekeeper comes in to take them away. When they leave, Sorren comes into the room. He wraps his strong arms around me and buries his face into my shoulder and I imitate the action.

"Kenza, I'm so sorry," he whispers, his voice almost shaking. "I should have volunteered to protect you. But… but I-"

"Shush." I pulled back and held his shoulder at arm's length. "I'm actually glad you didn't, Sorren. I don't want you to be in danger."

He lets out a shaky breath and looks me in the eye. I try my best to put on a smile.

"Take care of my family for me until Jack's old enough to take care of them on his own, okay?"

Nodding, he kisses my forehead and we fall into a comfortable silence. When the peacekeeper comes back, Sorren looks at me again and says, "I'll miss you."

Two other peacekeepers guide me out of the Justice Building and to the train station. Everyone had already gone home. It was just the three of us. As I looked back at the district where I live, only one thing came to mind.

_Goodbye._

**.:.:Ian Cappult, 18:.:.**

I examined the necklace that Lily gave me back at the crying room. It was a small stone tied to a leather chord that Mattie helped her make. It was simple, but it was something I would definitely remember her by.

Sighing, I put the necklace on and tuck it into my black collared shirt. My eyes travel to the doors leading into the Capitol train I was in and my eyes met Kenza Sorenson's. She was a tall girl, with long, straight black hair and light butterscotch eyes. We looked a lot alike.

"Ian," she said, her voice slightly trembling. She takes a deep breath and tries again. "Um, Ian. It's nice to meet you."

I nod, a small sile appearing on my face. "Likewise. I guess we're going to be partners now."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "I'm going to my room now and I probably won't be there for dinner. So I'll see you tomorrow."

I nod again.

"I hope we can get along. That's pretty important for our survival, you know." Kenza walks away and disappears into the hallway of rooms.

_I hope we can get along too._

**Wow. It's been a while, my people. Sorry I haven't updated for ages but I seriously was on a writer's block for this chapter. Even when I finally got it done it's stillp retty much crap :/ Sorry again and I promise the next (last!) two chapters will be posted soon, and that the nighttime Capitol rides will be up in less than a month.**

**So, without further ado, here is the sponsor question:**

**What is the name of the Avox girl who serves Katniss and Peeta during their stay at the Capitol?**

**I think it's a pretty tough question since I had to look it up on Wikipedia to find the answer myself, lol. Anyway, I'm sorry but I lost the number of points that everyone received before. Please forgive me! Everyone will start from 40 from now on. I hope you aren't too disappointed!**

**Please forgive me,**

**~Nisa~**


	13. District 12: Hatake

_Amy Hatake, 18_

I sit up, my breathing heavy. Sweat trickles down my forehead and I wipe it away. _Calm down, Amy. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare…_

But it wasn't a nightmare. The dream really did happen; ten years ago, my father was whipped to death for stealing food for us. We were poor and starving, and he couldn't bear to see us in that state. Without telling us, he went out to the market and snatched a few loaves of bread from a stall. The owner saw him and yelled, "Thief!" A peacekeeper was nearby and arrested him. Stealing was a huge no-no in District Twelve, no matter how small the item stolen was.

My mother told me that the owner of the stall had tried to take it back. He had called out on impulse, and he completely regretted it. My father was taken to the town square and whipped severely. I had only gotten there when he was half-conscious. Being the stubborn child I was, I ran to him, past the surprised peacekeepers. I screamed for them to stop, that my father was in pain, but in his weak state, my father said, "Don't, Amy. Listen… to them. Take… care… of them…"

I was pulled away by the peacekeepers, kicking and screaming and crying altogether, until my mother grabbed me and pulled me away from the crowd, back home, and the last glimpse I got of my father was of him closing his eyes one final time and falling to the ground with a _thud_. Grief took over. I never have experienced a pain greater than losing my father.

I bury my face in my hands and weep silently. It was ten years ago, Amy! Get over it! But still, I can't move myself from my still position on top of the bed. I have no idea how long I stayed like that; knees to my chest, face in my hands, eyes watering. From the looks of it, it must have been a while.

Once I calm down, I lift my head and look around the room. Katie, my little sister, was sleeping soundly in her own bed near mine. She hadn't noticed me waking up from my nightmare. Good. She needed the sleep.

I drop my feet onto the cold floor and stand up. The sun is barely peeking through the horizon and the clock in my room says that it's five in the morning. Maybe I should go buy some breakfast for us, since there's no food in the kitchen cabinets. I grab my bow and arrow stashed inside our dresser and tiptoe out of the room. My mother, Sirius and Katie are still sleeping.

Once I'm outside the house, I look around for any peacekeepers. All clear. I jog past all of the run-down wooden houses. It was a public holiday in District Twelve and everyone would probably stay asleep until late in the morning to get ready. It was the day of the reaping, the dreaded day where two of the kids in the district will be chosen to fight in the Hunger Games in which they will more than likely die.

District Twelve has only had one victor since the second rebellion; Elinor Mursing, whose sanity was very questionable. I feel sorry for whoever is chosen to be in the games. Not only do they have pathetic chances of winning, but they get a crappy mentor and a useless escort. Well, escorts are probably useless in all the districts, but that doesn't make it any better.

The border that lines the district is easily passable. Now, it's actually legal to walk through the forest, though there's another boundary preventing us from going any further than five kilometres from the District Twelve border. I bet it's something to do with District Thirteen, but I don't want to get in trouble for asking questions like that. I run into the mass of trees until I can hear the satisfying _crunch_ of leaves as I step on them and the light chirping coming from birds in the branches high above.

After a minute or two, when I'm in my preferred hunting spot in the forest, I slow down and hide behind a tree trunk. Wild chickens walk around the area nearby, oblivious to their upcoming deaths. I take out two arrows and align them both together. I estimate that I'd be able to shoot three of them, once they walk into the right spots.

I wait. One of the wild chickens takes a step forward…

And another…

And another… and I shoot.

I shoot down three of them, making the others scatter and run away. Clean cuts through the neck for each of them, giving quick deaths. I carefully pull out the arrows and stash them inside a sack that I always carry in my arrow quiver. Three chickens can probably buy me some breakfast for the next two days.

I sling the sack over my shoulder and take my time leaving the forest. I try to enjoy the beautiful day; it could be the last one I experience in District Twelve. Just because it's my last reaping, doesn't make the odds any better. Might as well be a realist than an optimist.

_Damien Hatake, 18_

Brushing imaginary dust off my shirt, I sigh. My last reaping. I'm supposed to be happy, right? But I'm not.

I think of all the possibilities. I might not get reaped, but then my little brother Miroku will have to take the tesserae, giving him even more chance of getting reaped. Maybe I will get reaped, and I lose, and my twin Sakura has to take care of the family herself. Maybe I will get reaped but I _win_, and we'll never starve again. The worst case scenario is that one of my siblings will get reaped. That would be absolutely terrible.

I would rather go into the Hunger Games and die than have any of my siblings go into the Games. After all, we only have each other. My father was killed by a peacekeeper during an uprising in District Twelve caused by shortage of food. My mother abandoned us when he died, grieving over his death in District Two where she works as a doctor of some sort. I don't really care; I don't care about her anymore. She left us alone and if anything, I hate her.

But no time to look back at the past. I go over to my brothers' beds to wake them up. Miroku groggily opens his eyes, while Danny just mutters incoherent words like, 'it's too soft here…' I push his shoulder again and Danny opens his eyes.

"It's the reaping, isn't it…?" Miroku says. I sigh, nodding. Miroku frowns. "I'll go get ready."

"Me too," Danny mutters, half asleep. I laugh and help him up before he shuffles into the bathroom. Miroku opens the chest of drawers to look for his nice clothes and I leave the room for him to change.

To my surprise, my sisters Sakura and Grace are already awake. There's a large plate filled with fried eggs in the centre of the small dining table and each of them are eating their breakfast. I smile and give Grace a kiss on the top of her head.

"Morning, cupcakes," I say and grab my own plate. I fill it with eggs and sit down to dig in.

They're both dressed and ready, and Sakura smiles slightly. "Are the boys awake yet?"

"Yeah," I say. "They're getting ready."

Grace bites her lip. "I'm nervous, Damien."

I look up and watch as she stares down at the table, fingering her left braid. "Why?"

"It's the reaping," she replies. "It's your last one, which is good, but it's also the year where you've got your name in the bowl most. Sakura's eighteen as well, but you take the tesserae for the _entire_ family, so you're the one with the most chances. In fact, _you_ should be nervous instead of me."

I sigh. "Grace, you don't have to worry about me. There are plenty of other eighteen-year-olds out there, and some of them even have larger families than this one. They have it worse than us."

Sakura puts her hand on my shoulder in a reassuring way. "Damien, she just cares about you."

I ponder on her remark. I suppose it was good of her to have cared for me; at least I have a loving family to look after me. Defeated, I nod. "I'm sorry, Grace."

"Don't be," Grace says. She stands up. "I should be sorry for bringing it up."

"Then all should be okay," Sakura says. She takes hers and Grace's plates and goes over to the sink to clean them. Grace goes to the bedroom to check if Danny and Miroku are ready yet. I finish my breakfast and help Sakura clean the dishes.

Danny and Miroku sit down to eat their breakfast. We all sit around the dining table together, talking about school, friends, and the usual. It felt nice being able to chat with my family before I left for the reaping. Most of the time, we're all too busy to ask each other about our personal lives.

We clean up after ourselves and walk out of the house together. I remember what I said, about other families in District Twelve being larger than ours. That was hard to believe, since we were already quite a large family, even without any parents. Sakura and I act as our siblings' guardians, becoming the parents that they never truly had.

At some point, we cross my cousin, Amy's house. Their home is not much different from ours, and they're just leaving to go to the reaping. Amy has a younger sister, Katie, who she holds hands with. They walked with their mother, Remy. Remy is the first one to notice us, and she smiles. Her husband was killed ten years ago, and I can tell that she never really healed. But Remy was still quite nice. She helped us around if we were in need, and Amy helped too.

"Hello, Damien and Sakura," Remy says. Amy turns her head to look at us and grins.

"And Danny, Miroku and Grace," Remy continues. "How are you?"

"Good," Sakura repliess. "How's work?" Sakura and Remy are pretty close; ever since our mother left several years ago, she has been looking up to Remy for advice and help.

Amy walks over to me and lightly punches me in the arm. "Hey, Damien."

"Hi, Ames."

Amy and I are fairly close as well. Even closer than I am with Sakura. We both have the same long black hair and blue eyes. Most of the Hatake family have dark hair and blue eyes, but Amy and I look most alike. We even act alike; we both hunt in the woods, together sometimes, and we're both protective and responsible for our families.

"You nervous?" Amy asks, hands in her pockets. She's dressed in her regular shirt-and-trousers attire, not being bothered to wear something nicer for the reaping. Amy was never one to care what she looked like.

I shrug. "I suppose, but mostly for my siblings."

Amy nods, understanding. "I feel the same with Katie."

There is a short silence, until I notice someone was missing. "Where's Sirius?"

"He's too old for the reaping, and he has work today," Amy says. It's strange how he was working on a public holiday, but I don't question it, for we've arrived at the District Square.

We register at the counter; a prick of our blood, a tick next to our name. Sakura, Amy and I wave to our families as we go to the eighteen-year-old section and they go to their lines. Remy stands at the back with the other parents. Sakura and Amy go to the girls' lines and I go to the boys'. I find Jordan, one of my friends, and stand next to him.

He smiles at me and we talk for a while, but then it drifts to silence. I take these last few seconds to think. Once this is over, I'll be able to work as a coal miner and earn a bit more money for the family. Sakura might also get a job, so we can actually earn a reasonable amount of money for the family. But it still wouldn't be enough, and maybe Miroku would have to take the tesserae. And then, Grace would take the tesserae, then Danny, and then when they're all old enough no-one will take the tesserae, but then everyone would be working, so we would have enough money for the whole lot of us…

That is, assuming that none of us get reaped.

But that's negative thinking. I think good thoughts, of finding a good future, of everyone being safe from the reaping, until the mayor walks onstage. He makes his speech; it seems to zoom past. Near the stage, I see Elinor Mursing, the only victor of District Twelve we've had since the second rebellion. She looked like most people from the seam, with short dark hair and grey eyes. Her face was stone cold, her legs crossed, her eyes staring at the ground like she's being punished by an elementary teacher. To think that she would be mentoring, not just one, but _two_ tributes in the next week or so. Hopefully, she would be at least a bit helpful.

Before I realize that the mayor has finished, our escort, Tulia Bronze, walks on stage and beams for the crowd – well, more like for the cameras. Her skin is dyed bronze; not like a _tanned_ colour, but actually _dyed_ a shiny bronze, like she's literally made of the metal. She had a curly purple wig, and her makeup and clothes are overly exaggerated, just like any other escort we've had.

"Welcome, District Twelve, to the one-hundredth Hunger Games, also known as the fourth Quarter Quell!" Tulia's voice doesn't have a heavy Capitol accent, but she still sounds extremely posh compared to any of us lot. "This year, to replicate the rule adjustment made in the 74th Hunger Games as to warn everyone not to defy the Capitol yet again, two tributes from the same district are allowed to win!"

No clapping. Nobody in District Twelve likes the Hunger Games; who would?

"As tradition follows, ladies first!" Tulia says with enthusiasm, which contrasts to the crowd's lack of. I almost find it funny, but then she walks over to the glass bowl.

I suck in a breath. What are the chances that someone I care for gets reaped? One to several hundred, I think. The odds are in our favour. But still, _someone_ has to get reaped…

_Amy Hatake, 18_

"Our female tribute for District Twelve is… Sakura Hatake!"

I panic. Everything inside of me is screaming for me to do something, but I stay, my feet glued together, my lips glued together, my hands glued together. It's all a big mess as there's screaming, and yelling, and I see my cousin Sakura walk closer and closer to the stage, and then my hand is suddenly unglued, and it shoots up in the air, and my lips become unglued and I yell, "I VOLUNTEER!"

_Oh, Amy, what have you done?_

People turn to me. The looks on their faces are all different; shock, terror, pity. But then… there's hope. People have hopeful looks, their eyes wide, their mouths slightly ajar, and their eyes reading; _This kid has a chance._

I remember now. The last time we've had a volunteer in District Twelve was in Katniss Everdeen's games, and they all remember how that turned out.

I walk to the stage. At the base of the stairs, Sakura hugs me, clinging onto me tight, and I honestly don't want to leave. But then she lets go, tears in her eyes, fear written all over her face. I could imagine my own face mirroring her expression. Hugging her one more time, I go up the stairs, slowly, and then I find myself next to Tulia Bronze. She asks me my name and I tell her. I stand and stare at everyone in the district.

_What have you done? What have you done?_

I barely notice when Tulia walks over to the boys' names. I stare at the ground. My mind is racing, my heart is pumping. I don't care who the boy is. I just want to get back home to my family, alive, and then we'd be able to live together in a big house were there's plenty of food for us, and we'd never starve again…

And then I snap out of it for a second, because Tulia has started reading out the name; a boy with a name beginning with the letter W. But suddenly someone snatches their hand up and yells, "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

_That voice. Oh hell, no, not that voice._

He walks on stage as I did. He tells the escort his name as I did.

Tulia beams at the crowd – or at the cameras, whichever – and says, "_Two_ volunteers! How exciting!"

_Yeah, exciting, sure. I hate you._

We are pushed into the Justice Building. In the crying room, I only get a second to sit down before my mother and Katie rush in and hug me.

We cry. We all cry. We hold each other close and don't let go. We sob, and mourn, and cry while each of our hearts are, again, torn into little pieces by the hands of the Capitol.

Katie grips my hand. "Amy, that was so brave of you," she cries, her face covered in tears and her eyes red.

My mother sits up on the couch and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "It was, Amy," she said. "It was brave."

I push a strand hair out of Katie's eyes and stare at the ground. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity," I say, not looking into their eyes. "I don't know which of those I have done."

Katie puts something in my hand. I open my palm and see that it's a shape attached to a string. I wipe my eyes to see what it is; a butterfly. It's made of wood, maybe, and painted black. "Oh, Katie," I say, and I start crying again.

It feels like such a short time before a peacekeeper comes in and tells Katie and my mother to leave. Katie hugs me one more time, and the two leave the room. The peacekeeper brings me to the train. I have to pass the crowd again; they are no longer in lines, but are mixed with parents in little groups talking to each other. They look at me. I don't look at them.

But I look at Damien. He and his peacekeeper bring us to the train, where we wrap our arms around each other and stay like that for a long time.

"This sucks," he says. I just nod.

Then I pull away and take his hand. "Partners?"

Damien nods. "Partners. For life."

**Here's the edited author's note. Since now I have no-one to submit the D11 tributes, I'll need some other people to submit the tributes for the district eleven male and female. I will give two people a chance for this, one tribute per person, but this is only open to people who haven't submitted to this SYOT before. This will be a first come, first serve thing since it's urgent. I'll keep you updated about the spots. PM me if you'd like to submit a tribute and I'll give you the form. Original characters that are not in any other SYOT's, please, and please use my form. I'll also give you guys a smaller form if you'd like to give an escort, stylist or mentor.**

**D11 Female - TAKEN**

**D11 Male - TAKEN**

**D11 Stylist - OPEN**

**D11 Mentor - OPEN**

**D11 Escort - OPEN**

**Try to match your tributes with what the district specialty is, which is agriculture, but for the stylist and escort the choices are open. Thanks, and I'll see you guys soon!**

**~love-peace-hugs**


	14. District 11: Rahn and Mauluga

_Roketi Mauluga, 18_

He blows another punch in my stomach and I double over. "Watch what you say, you little punk!"

I clench my eyelids together tightly, my breathing fast from the pain. I was used to it by now, but it was the second time in the week that he had hit me in the gut. The bruise was still there, and now I have to deal with the pain all over again. No matter how often it occurred, it never made the pain any more pleasant.

My father grabs my jaw and yanks my face up. His face is screwed up in a mixture of anger and drunkenness. I can smell the strong alcohol in his breath as he speaks. "If I hear another word from the Peacekeepers about my stupid goddamned son, I will _murder_ you."

He pushes my face away as if throwing a piece of rubbish onto the floor. I sense his footsteps going towards his bedroom, and he shuts his door violently and loudly. I sit down onto the wooden floor and rub my jaw. _The bastard._

I wait there for another five or so minutes, making sure that he's asleep before I go to my own bedroom. He's asleep, alright, and I hope he gets the worst hangover in history when he wakes up. I frown at his disgruntled position on his worn-out bed before going into my room.

I check my face in the mirror. The bruises aren't obvious yet, but I would need a bit of ice. I scowl deeply and clench my fists. The urge to break the mirror with my bare hands is strong, but I hold it back, saving it for something actually worth it. I run my hands through my black hair before walking away from my room and out the front door. I jog off, away from the house that was never really home. I didn't want to spend another minute in that hellhole.

The weather is gloomy and it looked like it was going to rain. I wouldn't exactly say it matches my mood, unless a horde of lightning was going to shoot from the sky and set fire to everything. _That_ would match my mood. I don't stop jogging; I just keep going on and on, following the dirt track that would lead to wherever. As long as it would take me away from my father's house, I was happy.

District Eleven is, as far as I knew, the largest district in Panem. It was just my luck that I live more than ten miles away from the Justice Building in a completely different town, but it was also just my luck that the train station was nearby. Reaping Day has never been my favourite day, but I feel that this year would be different. It is my last year after all, and I've been considering the idea of volunteering.

I know what you're thinking. _Volunteering? Is he crazy? Does he not want to keep living?_ To be honest, I don't care anymore. I've already seen everything, the cruelty of this world and the unforgiving people in it. What would an arena filled with teenagers destined to kill each other be any more different?

The train station is basically a group of two long buildings mainly made of grey bricks and wood. They are impeccably dull and crowded, but what other way is there to get to the District Square? Probably less than a third of the district has cars, and I'm certainly not one of them.

I push my way through the crowd and to the ticket counter, which had a long queue. _I could wait_, I think.

I do wait, and it's only half an hour later am I able to hop onto the people-filled train heading to the centre of the district. It was rather uncomfortable, being squished between bodies of people while trying to hang onto a metal pole, but thankfully the train was fast and we arrived in less than ten minutes. By now, we're probably late for the Reaping, but I hardly cared.

Breathing in the smell of fresh bread and fruit in the town centre, I started following the crowd towards the District Square.

_Carys Rahn, 16_

The hug that my mother gives me is embarrassingly long.

Her hands are wrapped around my shoulder blades and I lean into her chest. She naturally smells of oranges from harvesting them all day in the orchard. Her cheek buries itself into my hair, which makes it frizzy after I'd tried so hard to tame it down. For a while, it was nice, but then I realized she wouldn't let go and by now I'm pretty sure she was crying.

"Mom," I mumble. "Not in public. Not now."

She sniffles, and for a moment I feel that my mother is tightening her grip around me, but then she finally lets go and I can breathe. Though one of her hands is still on my shoulders and the other is wiping a tear away from her cheek.

"I love you, understand?" she says quietly as the people move around us. "I love you so much that you will never understand. Whatever happens, I will love you and care about you and never, ever forget you."

"Mom," I mumble, getting uncomfortable.

She laughs. Her laugh is like mine; soft and cheery but it has a tone of confidence behind it. "Go ahead now."

I force a smile one more time before turning around and making my way to the lines I was supposed to be in. Most of them were already standing in their rows and I quietly join the sixteen-year-olds, blending in with one of the lines.

My brain is scattered everywhere and I can't think. I'm too frightened and shaken up to really care about what others are saying around me. My name was in there twenty times. _Twenty. _The rich probably wouldn't even get up to half of that. Think of it, your name written in a cursive on twenty pieces of paper, all determining your fate. I didn't like how my fate depended on a stupid little piece of paper. Why did the Games have to be this way?

It was so unfair, as childish as that sounds. Your name would just by chance be called out by some strange-looking person from the Capitol and BAM! You're in a controlled piece of land fighting for your life not to be claimed by the Capitol. Why did they have to continue? You'd think that after ninety-nine games that the Capitol would have had enough, that they would just end the games and declare, "You know what? This is all a bit too much. Let's put a stop to it." No. The Capitol aren't like that. No-one is, really.

I frown as I watch the people prepare the stage for the choosing. They're just adding touch-ups before Mayor Castor walks onstage with a glum expression.

"Good morning, District Eleven," he speaks into the microphone. Lie. It is _not_ a good morning.

He says a few words before continuing with his speech, in which I'm already tuning out of to try and calculate my chances of getting reaped. I know, I'm over-analyzing, but that's just how my brain works. If I have time, I will think, and more often than not, I tend to over think situations leading to who knows what kind of problems.

Mayor Castor wraps up his speech, and I realize he hasn't even looked down at his cards. He'd already known it by heart, which I find amusing, but then the video screen rolls down and the projector from the front of the stage plays the video of the Rebellions. There was never anything different, and I didn't even bother to watch. I'd memorized the story from hearing it so many times in class and in speech.

Then when the video ends, the national anthem plays. It's rather triumphant and melodic, ironic for such a depressing mood. The song ends and is met by complete silence. Mayor Castor walks offstage without another word and our escort walks up.

It's hilarious, to be honest. Watching such a… brightly lit person walk amongst dull and down-brought people. Maydi Parida was new to being an escort, being about twenty-something, and she was absolutely hideous. Her skin was dyed a bright neon yellow that hurt my eyes, while _her _eyes were a mix of green and yellow and rimmed with enough makeup for at least ten normal people.

"It's an honour to be escorting District Eleven this year," she exclaims. What an accent. "Let us start with the girls!"

I steady my breathing to calm my nerves as Maydi trots over to the girls bowl and comes back with a piece of white paper. This was it. It was the moment of truth. Either I go into the arena or I don't.

She opens her mouth to read the name, and I close my eyes, waiting for the answer.

"Carys Rahn!"

My eyes snap open. I've… just been reaped.

_Roketi Mauluga, 18_

Everyone looks around for the girl who's just been reaped. There's so many people in District Eleven that even if you're good with names, you'll never really know much people outside your neighbourhood. There's a long pause before the escort reluctantly speaks into the microphone again.

"Carys Rahn?"

There's another small pause, but then I notice a girl with frizzy dark hair step out of the sixteen-year-olds' line. A look of shock and confusion washes over her before she walks up to the stage. When she stands next to Maydi, the escort asks for any volunteers. None.

Then she walks over to the boys' names. Well, I guess this is it. My chance.

I decide to wait for her to read out the name; I wouldn't want to look so hasty. So she stands behind the microphone with the piece of paper in hand, and her lips begin to move to read out the name. _My chance._

"Arnold Forman!"

"I volunteer!" I call out. People turn. Who knows how long it's been since someone volunteered in District Eleven. Was it forty years? I suppose in about forty years' time another odd volunteer would be looking back at me, my strange sacrifice for a person I don't even know.

I step forward and the other eighteen-year-olds make way for me. It's almost dead quiet with the exception of muffled chatter and my footsteps on the stone ground. The escort is beaming in excitement as I make my way next to her.

"My, my, a volunteer! What might your name be?" Maydi Paradi points the microphone at me.

"Roketi Mauluga," I say.

Still beaming, Maydi swings her head to face the audience. "District Eleven! May I present you, your tributes for the 100th Annual Hunger Games, Carys Rahn and Roketi Mauluga!"

There's no applause; why would there be? I turn my head to look at the girl tribute, Carys. She looks shaken, but she wasn't crying. At least she's not weak.

A few peacekeepers walk next to me and lightly push me towards the stairs. We're lead through the doors of the Justice Buildings, down the dreary hallways and finally into separate rooms where I'm supposed to say goodbye to my family. But what family is there other than a father who I hate?

So I just sit down on one of the couches, unsure of what to do. I end up staring at a painting on the wall, surrounded by a fancy gold frame. It's a painting of a bowl of fruit.

_Carys Rahn, 16_

I've never seen my parents cry. I wish it stayed that way.

It was like my heart was shattering, one piece falling at a time. The choked sobs coming out of my mother's mouth made me regret every single rule I've ever broken. I should have done better, I kept thinking, I should have been a better daughter. I should have valued their love more.

My mother burrowed her head into my shoulder, tears seeping through the lacy sleeves of my dress. "Mom," I say. "Mom, please stop crying."

Her arms were wrapped around me and I hugged her back, but it was more like I was cradling her. She was so vulnerable, so fragile that she was like a child more than a mother.

"I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Then there was my father. He didn't even have time to come close to me when my mother smothered me. His face was buried in his hands as he sat on a lounge near the door, tears dripping through the gaps between his fingers. His cries were quiet, but nonetheless all of the grief in the room was like a train running on top of my body. I couldn't take it and it was as if it was breaking me

My mother pulls away and cups the sides of my face with her hands. I'm crying too, but who wouldn't be? Her thumbs wipe the water falling from my eyes and she forces a small smile.

"Be strong, okay?" she says, but in the middle of the sentence her voice cracks. I nod, just for her sake.

She stands up and walks up to my father. I follow her, and when he looks up, I throw my arms around him.

"I love you, Dad," I say. "I love you, I love you."

That's all that happens in the next minute; I'm hugging my father and we all cry and cry and cry until the peacekeepers come in and separate us. I watch my parents as the walk out the door, getting my last glimpse before I die in the hands of the Capitol.

_Roketi Mauluga, 18_

I gape at the sight in front of me as I enter the train.

It's so… extravagant. Maybe even overly extravagant. It's so brightly lit that I squint my eyes when I move to the living room. There's a woman sitting at the long dining table, flipping through a notebook in her hands. She looks up when I approach.

"Hello," she says. She doesn't smile. Her face is completely neutral, neither pleasant nor menacing. Her black hair is cut short and her eyes are a piercing grey. I feel like I should know who she is.

"I'm Helia Marquez," she says. Of course. She's one of the mentors for District Eleven this year. I'm not really sure what year she won, but she's in her mid-thirties.

"Roketi Mauluga," I say, before walking up to the table and holding my hand out for her to shake. She stares at me for a while and I wonder if that was right thing to do, but she takes my hand and shakes it firmly.

Helia's eyes travel to something behind me. I turn around and see the girl who's my district partner. So that's my so-called 'partner for life', and this is only the second time I've been anywhere near to her. Well, I guess two against twenty-two is better than one against twenty-three.

"Um, hi," Carys says.

"Helia Marquez," she says. "Your mentor. You're the tribute? Fantastic. We've got both of you here."

I pondered on whether or not she was being sarcastic.

Helia stands up, taking her notebook with her. "We have lunch at twelve o'clock and dinner is at six o'clock. You can have a rest now, but don't be late."

A few Avoxes come up to us. An Avox girl who was not much older than me led me to my room. Those poor people. Nobody deserved to have their tongue cut out just because they broke a law or two. I honestly think that we from the districts have it better than the Avoxes. We probably do.

Though when I get to my room, I don't think about Avoxes or allies or lunch. I crash onto my bed, and lying on my back, I say, "Free. At last."

* * *

**FINALLY! The reapings are done with. Again, i apologize for the wait, but I totally forgot about the fact that I was writing this chapter and finally got around to finishing it. I'm not too sure about the ending, but you guys tell me.**

**So! I've started the sponsor system again. I'm going to put a question, maybe two, at the end of each chapter. if you answer one correct, you get 10 points. If you answer two correct, you get 25 points. Also, in the arena, for every day that your tribute survives, you get 5 extra points. You will automatically get 5 points for every review you write. To find out how many points you currently have, just ask me :D  
**

**That's it. Thanks for reading!**

**~love-peace-hugs**


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